


Neighborly

by WitchWithWifi



Series: 21 Colonial Street [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apartment Fic, Basically it's just happiness and very little angst, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff everywhere, Minor Raven Reyes/Kyle Wick, Monty/Miller if you squint, Multi, and the people in the apartment building are just silly, brief clexa, but bellarke is the main ship, but we love them, multi-chapter fic, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 20,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7152839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchWithWifi/pseuds/WitchWithWifi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clarke moves in to her new apartment on 21 Colonial Street, she has no idea of how drastically this change of address will change her life. An AU where no one dies and everyone is happy and lives in this apartment complex.</p><p>A story about friendship, true love, and Pop-Tarts</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Neighborly

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't seen much more than half of season two of The 100, but I can't get this fic idea out of my head- you know, the one where they're all happy and no one dies? So I'll probably update this whenever the spirit moves me, which is happening pretty frequently as of late, and we'll see where it takes us! Enjoy!

 

“Pivot!” Clarke considered leaving her couch right there on the curb after realizing that, despite their determination, she and Raven simply did not have enough combined strength to move the goddamned thing up the front steps and into the building- much less up three flights of stairs.

“That’s it.” Raven slumped against the arm of the plush couch, swiping her the back of her hand across her glistening forehead. Clarke was sure she was just as- if not more- sweaty after spending the past hour and a half dragging her stuff upstairs to her new apartment. “I’m getting Monty and Jasper. They’re scrawny as hell, but we need all the help we can get.”

“Who?” Clarke asked, shaking her head in confusion. She hardly even knew Raven- she’d met the girl about fifteen minutes ago when the brunette had come across her struggling to move her furniture inside by herself. Raven had asked her why Clarke hadn’t hired any movers, Clarke said she didn’t have the time or money to deal with sweaty, middle-aged men throwing around her furniture like footballs, Raven had called her a damned fool, and that was that.

Pushing herself off the couch, Raven began to climb over the cushions as though they were a mountain- and also they were blocking the entrance to the building. “Monty and Jasper. They’re my neighbors. Those idiots are up for anything. Oh, don’t worry,” She hurried to add, catching the look of wide-eyed confusion on Clarke’s face. “They won’t mind helping you. This building…” Raven shrugged, looking up at the apartment complex. “We all help each other. It’s just neighborly. You’ll see.”

With the (minimal) added strength of Jasper and Monty, the assistance of many breaks and more than a few beers, Clarke and Raven somehow managed to get the couch all the way up to 3B, where they promptly collapsed on it in exhaustion. When Clarke mentioned all the other stuff she still had to bring up, Raven hit her in the face with a pillow.

Clarke knew she was going to like it here.


	2. Tenants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke meets all the inhabitants of 21 Colonial- and one very important prospective tenant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little all over the place, but I want to get all the world-building out of the way early so we can get to actual story progression sooner- as story-progressive as a fluff piece can be, that is. Enjoy!

“Yo Griffin! Open up!”

“Go the fuck away.”

“Nevermind, I’m picking your lock. Stop hiding your spare key in a different place every week.”

Clarke groaned and rolled over in bed. When Raven had told her the people of 21 Colonial Street were close, Clarke hadn’t realized just how close they truly were. She’d only been living here a month, and already she was starting to feel like she lived with about six other siblings- if she’d had any siblings to compare the people of the building with. In fact, her entire family was pitifully small, and she and her mother weren’t even talking. Most mornings started with Raven banging on her door, either holding coffee, or taking over Clarke’s fancy coffee maker to brew some.

Jasper, Monty, and/or their friend Miller were always hanging out in the lobby, offering to fill her in on the latest gossip about people she barely knew, and trying to siphon some personal info off of her as she tried to grab her mail. They were worse gossips than the ladies at her mother’s favorite manicure shop back in DC. Then there were the others, who she didn’t know quite as well, but was slowly learning more about (due, in large part, to the unwarranted gossip shared by Monty and Jasper). There was Murphy, the grumpy, kermudgin-y guy in 2C, who hated leaving his apartment, and refused to play video games with the other guys. There was Monroe and Harper, who weren’t as gossipy as the boys but were always down to party. There was Maya, who got extremely flustered the one time Clarke saw her in the same room as Jasper, and Lincoln who was quiet but had been pleasant to Clarke the few times she’d passed him on the stairs.

Raven busted into Clarke’s apartment with all of the grace and tact of a bulldozer and made her way straight into Clarke’s room. “Girl, you have _got_ to get up, now.”

Clarke snuggled deeper under her comforter, away from Raven’s voice. “It’s Saturday. It’s a holy day.”

“Aren’t you an atheist?”

“Do I get to sleep in if I am?”

Raven ripped the covers off of Clarke and she winced at the sudden cold, instinctively curling into a ball. “There may or may not be an extremely hot guy checking out the apartment right across from yours, and you are missing out of his muscles and his hair and his jawline. Jawline, Clarke.” Raven waved her hands over her own face as though to enunciate her point. “Now get the fuck up. I’m holding your paintbrushes hostage until you do.”

At that, Clarke flew out of bed like lightning, before stumbling to a halt as stars filled her eyes from the sudden change in altitude. “Okay, at the threat of you potentially damaging the things that help me make, you know, money, I’m up.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to blink the world into focus. “Where’s this hot guy you’ve imagined?”

Raven pushed past Clarke and made her way to the door, sticking her head out into the hall. “Damn it, we just missed him.” Raven suddenly straightened and turned to Clarke. “Maybe he’s in Jaha’s office! Come on.” Before Clarke could protest, Raven had her arm in a vice grip, and Clarke found herself being dragged downstairs in athletic shorts and a “Keep Calm and Don’t Regenerate” t-shirt, weakly protesting that she’d left her glasses upstairs. They flew past a sleepy-looking Monty, who for some unexplained reason was standing in the hall of the second floor in his pajamas with a coffee cup in hand. He offered a half wave as Raven and Clarke continued stumbling down the stairs.

Finally, the two tumbled out into the hall of the lobby, panting and more than a little disoriented. “Was that really necessary?” Clarke demanded, rubbing her arm, which was sore from where Raven had grabbed it.

The other girl looked across the hall and straightened up victoriously. “It most certainly was.” She said to Clarke under her breath, a small smile playing at the edges of her mouth. Clarke squinted at what Raven was looking at. Two tall figures, talking by the mailboxes. One, she could tell was Jaha, but the other was unfamiliar. Of course, she was practically blind without her glasses, but she was fairly sure she’d never seen this tall, tan, dark haired blob before.

Jaha turned towards them, and greeted the pair warmly. “Raven, Clarke, what a surprise! I was just giving our newest- er, my apologies, a prospective new tenant the rundown on the security of the building. The access code, gate, lobby camera, all that. Now, my boy, this place isn’t Fort Knox, but it certainly is safe.”

The blob nodded. “Good to know." He turned towards the girls, and Clarke tried to resist the urge to squint him into focus. "Hi there, Raven and Clarke,” She could hear the amusement and slight teasing in his voice, but that didn’t stop the color rising to her cheeks as he stepped closer, and his face came into (some) clarity. “I’m Bellamy Blake.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, the place for a beta is open, so if you're interested, don't hesitate to let me know!


	3. Celebration Cupcakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven interrupts movie night with celebration cupcakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to start updating this story once a week- but I couldn't resist posting this chapter today. It's short and sweet and kinda pointless. So basically it's this story in a nutshell. Enjoy!

Two days later, Clarke had her feet propped up on Wells’ lap as they marathoned Marvel movies and passed a big bowl of popcorn bowl back and forth. “Why won’t they just give Scarlett Johansson her own movie? It doesn’t even need dialogue. Just her kicking ass and taking names would be fine.” Clarke said for what felt like the millionth time, chucking a pice of popcorn at the screen as Captain America took center frame.

“She would probably be a better leader, too.” Wells supplied. Clarke bobbed her head in hearty approval. “So what have you been up to?” He asked, glancing sideways at her. “All I see is boxes and paintbrushes. Have you even gone outside yet?”

Suppressing a groan, Clarke paused to take a sip of her wine before answering. “Settling in. I’m _still_ unpacking boxes, believe it or not. I thought I threw out all of my useless junk before I moved, but I can’t seem to find room for anything anymore. Not to mention I'm insanely behind on commissions. In fact, I should be working on that mess,” She gestured vaguely to the three easels and the tarp set out behind the couch, by the windows. “But I just can’t. I need a night in with my best friend and a marathon of movies before I even think about tackling that mountain.”

“You know, I’d be offended by you calling someone else your best friend,” Quipped a now-familiar voice from the door, and Clarke craned her head to see Raven standing in the doorway, sporting a plain white pastry box and a Cheshire-cat grin. “But you’re not mine, either. You’re in the running, though.”

“Thanks?” Clarke nodded towards the box. “I hope you brought goodies as an apology for interrupting our movie marathon. Wells, this is my neighbor I was telling you about. Raven, meet Wells.”

“Ah, yes, the infamous Wells,” Raven dropped down in the chair adjacent to The Damned Couch, as she’d affectionately named it. “Clarke’s told me plenty about you. Did you actually have to save her life from a turtle once?”

“SO, cupcakes?” Clarke asked, cutting her off. Wells laughed and nodded. 

“She was terrified-“ Wells began, as Clarke slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Cupcakes!” She shouted, trying to stop the mortifying story before it began. She'd been six, and that turtle was huge.

Raven opened the box, handing out the artfully decorated chocolate cupcakes. “These here are celebration cupcakes. That hot guy, Bellamy? Yeah, he’s moving in across the hall. I thought that called for cupcakes. And sprinkles.”

“Bellawho?” Wells asked, wiping frosting off his cheek.

“The blurry guy who Raven nearly killed me over in a rush to see?”

“I did not- Okay, I did. But don’t tell me it wasn’t worth it.” Clarke took a large bite of her cupcake to avoid answering the question, widening her eyes innocently. Raven cackled. “He’s so hot, he left Clarke a babbling mess of nerves.”

“I couldn’t see,” Clarke protested around her mouthful of cupcake, and her friends snickered. “Seriously!”

***

Raven ended up joining Wells and Clarke for the rest of their movie marathon, and spent the night on The Damned Couch after Wells left.

“You live right next to me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“If would take fewer steps for you to get to your front door than to my bathroom.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You don’t even have pajamas!”

“Clarke?”

“Yeah?” 

“Shut up.”

***

The next morning, over a nutritious breakfast of Pop-Tarts (of the strawberry variety) and coffee, Raven once again brought up New Neighbor Bellamy. “Are you planning on doing him, or something?” Clarke asked, licking chocolate off her finger.

“Probably not," Raven shrugged. "But don't tell me those freckles aren't sexy as hell.” She took a bite of her jam filled pastry. “Oh, but let me tell you about this dude at work. He is the absolute worst.” She went off on a tirade against some guy named Wick, complaining about how he was always trying to outdo her, and finish his work first, and build the most impressive fighter robots in his spare time. All Clarke could do was nod and try to suppress a smile at the fact that Raven was too pissed at Wick to realize that she probably really, really liked him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for Wells. And for canon-ish couples.


	4. Bets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Raven start a bet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a weekly update! And despite the time between chapters, I'm still only one ahead. Hopefully I'll be able to fix that soon, though. For now enjoy!

“Where’s your husband?”

“What?”

It was Monday afternoon, and Clarke had come down to fetch her mail, and found Monty alone in the lobby. “Jasper. Your husband, your soul sister, the person you live with and are practically attached to at the hip? I don't think I've ever actually seen you two apart.”

Monty made a face at her. “Believe it or not, I don’t know. I’m, uh, I’m waiting for Miller, actually.” He mumbled, looking anywhere but Clarke’s face, but she could definitely see his cheeks flush.

“Oh, are you, now?” Clarke smirked, but before she could say anything else, the lobby door swung open, and both of their heads snapped in the direction of the newcomer.

To Monty’s (and Clarke’s, to some extent) disappointment, Miller was not the person who walked in. Murphy breezed past the pair with hardly an acknowledgement, muttering peevishly about gossips and how they should start a newspaper.

“What a pleasant man.” Clarke commented once Murphy had pounded up the steps and was out of earshot.

With a grin, Monty shot back, “Friendliest guy in the building by far.”

The pair fell into companionable silence for a few moments as Clarke turned her attention to the letters in her hand. “Hey,” She said after a while, still looking at her mail. “Do you know anything about the guy moving into 3C? The apartment across from mine?” She tried to keep her voice neutral, but she really did want to know more about the guy who was possibly going to be her neighbor in the next few days. If anyone was going to know about him, it would be Monty.

“Unfortunately, not a lot. I know he’s a teacher at Ark High, he used to be a security guard for a museum in D.C., and he calls soda 'pop'.” Clarke shot him a confused look. Monty shrugged. “He said it, not me.”

Shaking her head in amusement, Clarke shut her mailbox, and nodded to Monty. “Thanks. Good luck with, ah, waiting for Miller.” As she started to make her way up the steps, the lobby door opened again, and Clarke couldn’t resist turning around to see who it was.

Raven walked in with her arms clutched around a paper bag, talking animatedly to a frazzled-looking Miller. When she caught sight of Clarke, she bid him goodbye and made a beeline for her friend, while the other guy rubbed the back of his neck, catching sight of Monty, who had straightened up and was now smiling awkwardly at his friend. 

“You would not _believe_ what Wick did today,” Raven said in lieu of a greeting, storming up the steps. Clarke followed, jogging in order to keep up. “He thinks he’s so smart, trying to tell _me_ how to program _my_ machines. Mine!” She snorted in indignation.

Before she could get any further with her rant, Clarke cut in, “First, I need to know: How long have Monty and Miller been dancing around each other?”

The brunette blinked in surprise at the abrupt change in conversation, but replied easily, “Pretty much the day Miller moved in. Last year, I think?”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “A year? Jesus. How long do you think it’ll take them to come to their senses?”

Raven pressed her lips together, thinking. “Clarke Griffin, are you proposing a bet?”

“I guess so.” Clarke Griffin was not a gossip. Or a better. But if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that the two idiots one floor below her were going to get together. And soon.

“Okay, then. You’re on. Twenty bucks says they don’t get around to it until… April Fool's Day, and try to psych us all out.”

Clarke scoffed. “April? That's three months from now. I give them until the end of next month.”

“Oh, honey, I am going to be buying _very_ nice things with your money, I have no doubt. Now let me tell you about Wick…”

(By the end of the week, the entire building was in on the bet, and Monty and Miller still had no clue)


	5. The Move-In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third floor gets a new neighbor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Tuesday, and you know what that means! (It means I panic because I forgot to write all week, and go into a writing and editing frenzy. You're welcome.)

Bellamy moved in the next week. Raven texted Clarke at eight in the morning, telling her to look out the peephole, but not open her door.

_Why?_ Clarke texted back before continuing to sketch out rough drafts of her next piece. It was supposed to be a countryside landscape, but she just couldn't seem to get the hills quite right.

** _Just do it Griffin, and quick. You’ll thank me later._ **

Sighing, Clarke shoved her things aside and hauled herself off the couch to look out the peephole of her apartment, and _woah_.

Bellamy was hauling a large box into his apartment, muscles bulging as he struggled with the weight of it. Of course, he was sweaty. And shirtless. And  _hot._

Just then, Clarke’s phone rang over on the coffee table. After one more long look, Clarke hurried over to pick it up, recognizing Raven’s face on the Caller ID. 

“Are you looking?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

“Unfortunately? I expected thank you’s and exaltations for showing you the shirtless man who now lives on our floor. I could have kept him all to myself.”

“I don’t know…” Clarke made her way back over to the door, looking out the peephole just in time to catch Bellamy making his way back out of his apartment. “He kind of seems like an ass. I mean, can he keep his shirt on? It’s not _that_ hot outside.”

Outside, Bellamy froze on the landing, and Clarke realized her door was, shockingly enough, not soundproof. He glanced toward her door and she silently prayed he wasn’t going to come over and knock on her door to verify if anyone was home. Even Raven was silent on the other line, probably waiting to see what happened.

Finally, Bellamy shook his head and trotted back down the stairs. Raven burst out laughing as Clarke sank to the floor with her back against the door, fiercely blushing. “That was so embarrassing.” She groaned.

“That was beautiful.” Raven crowed. “And sadly, I now have to go to work. Continue ogling for me, okay?” She hung up before Clarke could remind her that she would not, in fact, be ogling all day.

-

She ogled a little. Between breaks from sketching, or when she walked into the kitchen for water. And really, who could blame her for casting the occasional watchful eye out to the landing, or down on the street, where she just happened to have a very nice view of the front entrance directly below her.

It soon became abundantly clear that Bellamy had not hired movers to help him move in. Up and down he went, box after box, and after an hour of watching, Clarke forgot all about the embarrassment of the phone call and simply felt badly that he had to do this all alone.

The next time he struggled up the steps with an end table in his arms, Clarke impulsively stuck her head out her door. “Hey,” She called, and he glanced over her way in surprise. “Need a hand?”

He set the table down outside his door and studied her for a minute, and she studied him right back, from the curly dark hair that stuck to his forehead to the freckles that were sprinkled all over his admittedly attractive features. And his abs. Abs that were even more impressive up close. Clarke felt heat creeping up her neck as his dark eyes landed on her, she but forced herself to stand her ground. “I’d love some help, actually,” He finally said, wiping his palm on his shorts before extending it towards her. “I’m Bellamy.”

“Clarke. We actually met a few weeks ago. I was the girl who was being dragged down the stairs by Raven. She lives next door.” Clarke jutted her thumb in the direction of Raven’s apartment. 

Bellamy grinned, all perfect teeth and messy hair and Clarke ignored the somersault that her stomach did at the sight. “I remember you. I just wasn’t sure if you remembered me- I heard you yell something about not wearing your glasses?”

“I'm blind as a bat. I usually wear contacts.” She replied dumbly. They were quiet for a moment, staring at each other. Clarke tried not to notice the fact that his torso looked like it was cut from stone, or the fact that he seemed to be nearly a full head taller than her. She definitely ignored the butterflies in her stomach every time his eyes fell on hers, because there was no way she was going to develop a childish crush on her neighbor. “So,” Clarke said abruptly, reaching up to tie her hair back. “Moving things. Helping.”

Bellamy started, like he’d completely forgotten what he’d been doing. “Right. Yes. Uh,” he turned on his heel until he found the table he’d been carrying. “I really don’t have a lot of stuff left- it’s just some furniture that I’ll need help with.” He explained over his shoulder as he dropped the table in his apartment. “Should I put on a shirt?” He asked as he re-emerged. Clarke shot him a questioning glance. “Wouldn’t want to seem like an ass, now would I?” He smiled as Clarke’s jaw dropped, making his way back down the stairs. “C’mon, princess, I need help with my couch.”

At the mention of his couch, Clarke unfroze. “Oh, _hell_ no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonder what Raven's going to have to say about this...  
> Also, Linctavia, Raven/Kyle, and more craziness with the rest of the building coming up soon!


	6. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke remembers she now has a new neighbor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I am so sorry about not updating on time this week! I got a new laptop, and I haven't transferred all of my information onto it yet, so I had to rewrite most things. However, I'm still writing this, so don't worry! Anyway, enjoy!

When Clarke opened her door the next morning with a mug of coffee in hand, she’d kind of forgotten that she now had another neighbor. She hadn’t forgotten _him_ entirely- how could she?- but she’d forgotten that he lived across the hall, and that some people, like high school teachers, actually left their apartments to go to work. (Jasper and Monty never did. She was kind of curious as to how they paid their bills, but also too afraid to find out.)

So when she found herself face to face with Bellamy Blake, she was more than a little surprised. The feeling seemed to be mutual as his dark eyebrows raised, wrinkling his freckled forehead. Then his eyes dropped down to her clothes, and his look of surprise transformed into one of amusement.

“Good morning, _princess_.” He greeted her teasingly, shouldering his messenger bag.

Clarke made as if to cross her arms, and then remembered the coffee in her hand, and settled for glaring at him instead. “I thought we discussed that name. Specifically the fact that we’re _not_ using it.”

“Tell that to your pajamas.”

She looked down at herself and groaned. Of course she would be wearing pajama pants with coffee cups and crowns on them, and a hot pink tank top that said Procrastination Princess. “I’ll have you know, I stole these from a friend.”

Bellamy’s smile just grew wider, and she could tell he didn’t believe her. Fine, she decided, taking in his outfit. Two could play at this game.

“So, professor, need someone to sew some elbow patches on that lovely tweed jacket of yours?” She asked innocently, eyeing him over her mug. “I think you’re missing your horn rimmed glasses and a pipe.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes, though his voice still held a teasing tone when he shot back, “Actually, I’ve already got elbow patches on this, thank you very much. And you’re the one with glasses. _And_ smoking kills.”

Clarke held her free hand up in mock defeat. “Fair enough. I’m not quite sure what to say about your tie though. Did you get it specially made?” She nodded towards the Declaration of Independence tie currently around his neck.

Touching his tie self-consciously, he looked away as he muttered .”No,” And Clarke grinned at the obvious lie. “What are you doing out here in your pajamas anyway?” He asked, looking sideways at her in curiosity. “I assume you don’t work in a pajama factory.”

She shook her head, still smiling lightly. “Nope. Just waiting for our other neighbor- Raven.” She checked her watch. “She should come out to break into my apartment in the next thirty seconds or so. She likes my coffee maker,” Clarke explained at Bellamy’s bewildered expression. “But she claims she likes me too much to steal it. I think she just likes that I provide the Pop-Tarts.”

“Which kind?”

Clarke laughed at the question. “Strawberry, of course.”

“The superior flavor.”

“Tell that to Raven.”

At that moment, the neighbor in question burst out of her door and came marching down the hall, stopping short at the sight of Bellamy and Clarke watching her. She looked between the two of them as though she were trying to figure out what was happening. “Good morning other neighbor,” Clarke greeted her cheerily, handing over the mug. “I already had a few sips. I figured I’d get ahead of you this morning to avoid the break-in.”

Raven frowned, but accepted the coffee nonetheless. “Way to ruin the only fun part about my mornings, Griffin.” She grumbled, before turning on Bellamy. “Welcome to the third floor. I heard you roped this idiot into helping you move your couch. She deserves it after she made me help her with hers. Damned couch.”

“Well you’re just a ball of sunshine this morning, aren’t you?” Clarke smiled. “Wick make a better fighter robot than you again?”

Raven’s face darkened. “That was _once_. This time, I’ll take him down.”

“Speaking of time,” Bellamy interjected. “I need to go, or I’ll be late to school. And I’m not even a student, but I definitely will get in trouble. See you later, Raven. _Princess_.” He nodded to each of them before disappearing down the steps.

The moment he was out of sight, Raven wheeled on Clarke. “I heard everything. You’re gonna tap that, right?” Clarke groaned and turned around, closing the door in Raven’s face. “I’ll tell Monty and Jasper to put it in the building’s newsletter!” She called through the door.


	7. A Regular Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke doesn't know what day it is, and Bellamy Blake's hotness level had nothing to do with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, it's Tuesday in most countries. And I'm back to being two chapters ahead! So hopefully, I'll be able to keep this up for however long this fic becomes! Enjoy!

It became a regular thing for them, meeting every morning from their respective doorways. Clarke would be standing in her doorframe in her (far more respectable) pajamas, waiting for Raven with a mug of coffee, while Bellamy gathered his things before he left for work.

And maybe she did appear in her doorway a little bit earlier every day, hoping to eek out even a couple more seconds’ conversation with her new neighbor. There was nothing wrong with wanting to get to know the person who lived less than fifteen feet away from her. Bellamy was easy to talk to, and despite the fact that they managed to bicker about everything from hummingbirds to Hogwarts, Clarke always found a smile on her face when she watched him walk away.

So when she opened up her door one morning to find a closed one across the hall, she paused in confusion. She checked her watch, but she was right on time. She could hear Raven banging around and cursing next door, but without Bellamy standing across from her, teasing her about her hair, or her coffee, or her lack of knowledge of American history, Clarke’s morning felt… off.

After a few moments of internal debate, she decided to cross the space between their apartments and knocked briskly on his door. She decided to ignore the weird thumping her heart was doing, because she did _not_ want to deal with whatever that meant and-

She heard shuffling behind the door, and then a lock turning, and finally, Bellamy himself was opening the door and peeking his head out at her, bleary-eyed and _ohmygod_ shirtless. Clarke kept her eyes determinedly on his.

“Clarke?” He mumbled, squinting at her. “What- What time is it?”

“It’s seven- you’re going to be late for work. What are you doing still sleeping?”

“Clarke,” Bellamy sighed, clearly trying to be patient with her. “It’s Saturday.”

“What?”

“It’s Saturday. And unless you know something I don’t, Saturday is the day I get to sleep in.”

“Oh.” Clarke’s face flushed in embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t- I just I don’t have a normal schedule- I’m sorry, I- I’ll let you go.”

She backed up a step. Bellamy paused in his doorway, then sighed and walked back inside, leaving the door open. “Well, you might as well make me some of this coffee I’ve been smelling all week. That’s an apology I’ll accept.”

Clarke hesitated, glancing towards Raven’s door. The banging and cursing had ceased, and she knew her friend would be blowing through the hall like a tornado on steroids. Then, she looked at the open door to Bellamy’s apartment. Raven could make her own damn coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idiots. Also, the position for a beta is still open! And reviews encourage longer chapters ;)


	8. Newsletter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jas is totally pushing for a newsletter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oopsie.

"No, Jas."

Clarke was sitting in one of the armchairs Jasper and Monty had dragged into the tiny lobby (blatantly ignoring Jaha’s halfhearted protests that “there isn’t enough room” and “it negatively affects the feel of the lobby”), flipping through her mail as Jasper tried to shove a homemade newsletter under her nose.

“It’s got all the updates on the building’s news!”

“Gossip.”

“Events people are hosting.”

“You mean Monroe’s weekend kegsters.”

“News about new tenants.”

“Gimme.” Clarke snatched it out of his hand and flipped it over. In the upper right hand corner, there was a blurry picture of Bellamy, holding his hand up to the camera with his door half-shut. A small smile spread across her face as she took in the image.

**An Interview with New Tenant,** the column announced. **Bellamy Blake of 3C.**

**Bellamy, what made you decide to move to 21 Colonial Street?**

**_Um, the rent was good. The building’s clean and near the high school. Kind of a no-brainer. Why are you interviewing me, again?_**

**Where do you work?**

**_I’m an American History teacher at Ark High School. I’ve worked there for the past two years. I guess you could say I’m a bit of a history nerd._**

Now, Clarke really smiled at that, thinking back to his specially made Declaration of Independence tie, before she continued reading.

**Do you have anything you want to say to the residents of our apartment complex.**

**_Um, hi? I guess? Sorry for all the noise I made when I was moving in. Are we done here, or…?_**

The article ended there, and Clarke glanced up at Jasper’s open, hopeful expression. “It’s… unique.” She managed, offering him an encouraging smile. “I don’t think people are going to be all over the fact that their lives are going to be on display for the rest of the building- and in the format of a newsletter.”

Her friend didn’t look discouraged, though. “You mark my words, Griffin. By the end of the week, this stack right here will be long gone.

“You wanna bet?”

“Two beers and a game of Mario Kart.”

“You’re on.” Clarke shook hands with Jasper and jumped up from her seat. “Just so you know, I also like wine.”

“Good to know. Too bad it’ll be you bringing me beer.”

“In your dreams.” Clarke patted his cheek affectionately before starting up the stairs.

(The next week, Clarke found herself drinking cheap beer and losing badly to Jasper at Mario Kart, and wondering why the residents of 21 Colonial Street were so obsessed with each other’s lives.)


	9. A Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be the first to confirm it: Any author who actually sticks to a posting schedule has made a deal with the devil. This author in particular has not, and is actually jumping out of a plane today (It's cool, I'll be back), and moving into a new dorm tomorrow, so posting may (read: will) be even more sporadic. So sorry, y'all. In the meantime, enjoy these two lovesick idiots!

She wasn’t sure when Saturday Coffee became A Thing, but sometime after the school year ended and summer began, Clarke discovered that her daily chats with Bellamy were no longer possible. But at one point or another, Clarke decided to keep coming over on Saturday mornings to make Bellamy his coffee (Though they'd agreed she could come over later than the “ass-crack of dawn”), and they’d sit in his kitchen and catch up with each other, discussing their weeks, their plans, and Jasper and Monty’s newsletter. Bellamy pinned up each week’s newsletter on his refrigerator, and Clarke always brought it over for them to discuss over their drinks, and later on, over the ridiculously healthy breakfasts Bellamy would whip up once he discovered her diet consisted mainly of pop-tarts and macaroni and cheese.

“Do you want to die an early death?”

“If it means I get to eat the most delicious foods on Earth? Yes.”

“I’m making you something with protein. And natural colors.”

“Orange is natural!”

“Not in powdered form.”

So, they ended up spending most of their Saturdays holed up in Bellamy’s apartment, talking about everything and nothing, and Clarke found herself wanting to know even more about him, brimming with questions every week when she showed up at his door, mug in hand, ready for an admittedly-delicious meal that did not taste vaguely of cardboard.

Bellamy wasn’t open about everything, though. Whenever she asked about his family, he practically did verbal gymnastics in order to avoid directly answering her questions. She did find out that he has a younger sister, of whom he was fiercely protective, and that his mother has passed away some time ago. He never mentioned his father, and she didn’t ask. 

Despite his reservations, she found herself growing closer to him, and looking forward to their weekly meetings. She’d never considered herself a “friends” kind of person- all she’d had in high school was Wells, because he was the only one who wasn’t intimidated by the intense, art-obsessed weirdo with the surgeon mom. But ever since she’d moved into this building, she’d found herself smiling more than she ever had before, greeting Monty and Jasper in the lobby, quietly making fun of Murphy the Hermit along with Maya whenever he grumped by, exchanging junk food and daily stories with Raven, and now spending her Saturday mornings with her ridiculously attractive neighbor. She even poked her head in to one of Monroe’s kegsters once, but once Roma started ballroom dancing with a push broom, she decided to head home. After getting a quality video of it, that is.

It was a Saturday in late August when Clarke made her way across the hall to find Bellamy’s door closed. And locked. Usually, his door was already open, and she could smell the crackling of eggs or bacon cooking on his stove, but this time, she couldn’t hear anything. She knew it was Saturday (She’d paid extra attention to her calendar since her original mix-up with the days of the week), and Bellamy hadn’t mentioned any plans for this week. Maybe he’d come down with something.

Tentatively, she knocked on the door. “Bellamy?” She called through the door. Silence. 

Then _“Shit,_ ” and a stumbling noise. Thirty seconds later, Bellamy opened the door, slightly, though he kept the door on the chain. She eyed his bare chest suspiciously. 

“You forget that it’s feeding time?” She asked teasingly, holding up her mug. “You’re a bit underdressed for coffee, but I guess casual Friday can carry over to this morning.”

Bellamy scrubbed a hand over his face, his discomfort even more evident. “Look, Clarke, I’m gonna need to take a rain check on this morning. Sorry, I- I’ll expla- I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” His tone implied that this was not actually up for discussion.

Clarke tried not to let the hurt show in her face. He was literally shutting her out, and she didn’t even get the reason as to why. “Sure. I’ll, uh, I’ll see ya.” Awkwardly, she turned around and crossed the hall back to her apartment. When she twisted her head around to look back, his door was already closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. What on earth is Bellamy doing? (Reviews make the world go round)


	10. Bang (Bang into the Room)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke finds out a couple of interesting facts about her favorite neighbor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so now may be a good time to admit college is hard. And writer's block is even worse. I've been trying to write a bunch, but nothing seems to be coming out of my head. However, you all deserve a new chapter, and this one is hot off the presses! And by the presses I mean my Pages document. Enjoy!

“He had a girl over!”

“Excuse me?”

“I saw her! She tottled out of his place all giggles and day-old clothes and an annoyingly high-pitched “Bye, Bellamy” while he just stood in his doorway in nothing but sweatpants. What the hell?”

“So, you called me to tell me he’s cheating on you?”

“What?” Clarke stopped her pacing at Wells’ question.

“He’s cheating on you.”

She shook her head, despite the fact he couldn’t see her. “We’re not dating.” Clarke said, despite the fact that both she and Wells were well award that was what she'd say if they actually were dating.

“You’re kidding me.” Wells let out a breathy laugh, static-y over the phone.

“What do you mean, ‘You’re kidding me’? You know we’re not dating.” 

“Clarke, every time I call, it’s Bellamy said this, or Bellamy did that. If one of you hasn’t asked the other out yet, you’re both dumber than you look. And you can look pretty dumb sometimes. Maybe it's a blonde thing.”

“Hey! Your dad is, like three floors away. Dare I threaten you with the story of the crab in seventh grade?”

“Crap- my boss is yelling for me-I gotta go. Love ya, Griffin.”

“You’re an ass, Jaha Jr.”

Wells just made an overly dramatic kissing noise before hanging up. Clarke went back over to her peephole, but Bellamy’s door was still closed. She wasn’t sure what she should have expected. To see him standing outside with a coffee cup, waiting to get back to their routine?

“Okay, okay,” She muttered to herself. “This is not a big deal. He had a girl over. He had a girl over. That’s no big deal, and certainly none of my business. It doesn’t bother me.” 

It bothered her. Why? She wondered, trying to force a perfectly explicable and rational reason into existence. Because she actually wanted real food instead of the pop tart she was mulling over. Because she wanted to discuss Jasper’s “Murphy on the Move” column with him. (She wanted to know if Jasper had actually picked the lock to the apartment yet). Because she was bored and wanted to avoid painting for as long as possible.

It certainly was _not_ because of the girl she saw leaving, because Clarke Griffin was not petty, shallow, nor vapid. And Bellamy Blake, nerdy history teacher that he was, would not get to her.

So she did end up turning to her paintings. She immersed herself in landscapes and paint mixing, losing herself to her work in a way she hadn’t been able to in a long while. She forgot about Bellamy, and pop tarts, and the upcoming deadlines she was facing for the very pieces she was working on. All that mattered was making the perfect picture.

It was maybe four hours before she stumbled back into reality, jarred by a knock on her door. She paused the music blasting from her crappy stereo and glanced out the peephole, before opening the door in confusion, coming face to face with a dark-haired girl with blue eyes and freckles.

“Hey,” The girls said, giving Clarke the once over. “I’m Octavia.”

“Hi,” Clarke greeted her hesitantly. “Clarke.”

“Yeah, I figured. You’re the one banging my brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's short, but there's more to come (duh). And now we have Octavia!


	11. 21 Colonial Street: Newsletter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The update you've all been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? Two updates in one month? It's like I'm an actual fic author! (I am. I totally am.) This is kind of a break from the Clarke-centric story because wow her inner monologue is... a lot. And I'm the one writing it. So, instead, I wrote up a fun little ficlet that actually contains some story progression if you squint.   
> Also I just love Jasper and Monty.

21 Ark Street: Weekly Newsletter  
By Jasper Jordan and Monty Green.

**Mysterious Apartment Pet**

     As it is well known by the 21 Ark Street Community, pets are not allowed in the apartment complex for ~~stupid~~  safety reasons. Despite this being a well-established and universally-heeded rule, a young kitten managed to sneak past (Land)Lord Jaha’s preventative measures, and into our halls. There have been at least three confirmed sightings over the last week, once by Clarke Griffin from the third floor on Monday, one from Lincoln Woods from the third floor on Thursday, and from Jasper Jordan, author of this article, just this morning.

     The kitten seems to be showing no intention of leaving, and instead has become a minor celebrity of sorts around these parts, which leads us to wonder: Will our new resident be sticking around? Raven Reyes of the third floor certainly seems to think so, as Monty Green spotted a bowl of cat food behind the potted plant outside her door just yesterday.

     What should we name our new, furry friend? Cast your suggestions under the door of apartment 2B by next Wednesday!

 

**Miller Milling Around?**

     Is it possible? It appears that John Miller of the second floor has been spotted outside of his apartment for once, loitering in the front lobby. An anonymous source claims to have seen the second-floor resident leaning against the mailboxes, looking around as if he were waiting for someone. Our source claims to have observed Miller loitering about for 15 minutes, before the source got bored and left the scene. Still, this uncharacteristic behavior is very suspicious, indeed…

 

** Free Cookies!**

     Clarke Griffin has announced that she has suddenly experienced a windfall of good fortune! And by good fortune, we, your doting authors, mean baked goods! So, stop by Clarke’s apartment if you’re craving free food. As to why she has all this food, she had an explanation, but we simply didn’t care to hear it. Bond with out second-newest tenant over cupcakes and cookies whenever you please. She's always home. 

     Seriously. Always.

** Untapped Talent?**

     While looking for his supposedly lost phone, one of your authors (Monty Green) discovered a note shoved in one of the cushions of a lobby armchair. If you are the owner of this note, if can be found in Monty and Jasper’s apartment. Also, whoever you’re apologizing too would definitely forgive you. (Lord Byron would be jealous. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a secret poet in our midst!

     Worry not, Monty's phone was found safe and sound in the refrigerator next to the night cookie dough.

That’s all for this week. Feel free to drop by apartment 2B anytime with more news from around the building. Until next week!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! I actually got ahead again, so I should have an update for you sometime this week! What? Yes! Get pumped. (Hint: Octavia rules)


	12. Confusion and Pop-Tarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Pop-Tarts, feat. Octavia Blake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three updates in one month. I feel accomplished. Is this chapter short? Yes. Was I eating Pop-Tarts when I wrote it, edited it, and posted it? Definitely.  
> (also, thank you all SO MUCH for putting up with my crazy posting schedule and sticking with this story. Y'all mean so much to me)

     There are times when it seems like the entire world stops for a moment, and other times when it rushes on like an oncoming train. Clarke most certainly experienced the latter as the brunette girl stared at her expectantly from the hallway.

     “I’m sorry… What?” She eventually stammered out, her eyes frantically flicking from the girl in front of her to the closed door just a few feet away. Bellamy still hadn’t come out, and Clarke was starting to doubt that he would for quite a while.

     “You. And my brother. Are doing it. Please don’t make me say it again.” The girl’s pretty features briefly contorted into a face of disgust.

     There was an awkward pause, and then Clarke stepped to the side. “Uh, do you want to come in?”

     Octavia chose not to respond, instead choosing to breeze in, casually taking in the furnishings, decorations, and finally, the mountain of paint Clarke had set up in what was supposed to be the breakfast nook. “So, that’s why you have paint on your eyebrow.” She smirked not unkindly. “I just thought it was a strange fashion choice.”

     “Really? Shit.” Clarke reached up to swipe at her brow, and sure enough, her thumb came away orange-tinted. “God, that’s embarrassing.”

     “Don’t worry about it. After walking in on Bellamy singing and dancing to Halo a few years ago, nothing surprised me.”

     “Seriously?” Clarke let out a breathy laugh, before remembering why the girl was in her apartment in the first place. “Oh, right, about your brother-“

     “He doesn’t know I’m here. He never lets me meet his girlfriends, but when he mentioned you live across the hall, I just had to meet you. Make sure you’re good enough for him and-“

     “We’re not dating, though.” Clarke interrupted. “Believe me, we… We most definitely are not.” She felt she did a very good job of keeping the disappointment our of her voice. Maybe too good a job.

     Another smirk. “Are you sure? Because you’re all he can talk about lately. ‘Oh, you know Clarke told me about this…’ or ‘Clarke said the funniest thing yesterday, you should hear…’ or even ‘Clarke’s great’.All the time. And my brother is not the kind of 'friends with benefits' guy.”

     Heat flooded Clarke’s cheeks as Octavia spoke. “He said that? About me?”

     Octavia rolled her eyes at the other girl’s apparent obtuseness. “Unless there’s another Clarke living across the hall from my brother. He’s crazy about you.”

     Just as soon as her heart began to soar, it fell hard as ever. “Oh, yeah. About that. I, well, I saw another girl leaving his apartment this morning. Textbook Walk of Shame attitude and look. Though, I don’t think she was all that ashamed. I mean, why should she be? We’re twenty first century women, and we should be proud of doing what we want and-“

     “As much as I love liberated women speeches- and believe me, I do- rewind. My brother had a girl over last night? That literally goes against everything I’ve ever known about him.”

     Clarke shrugged, at a loss for words. Octavia narrowed her eyes and pushed herself off the counter she’d been leaning against. “I need to speak with that boy.”

     “No, no, bad idea!” Clarke flailed out and grabbed Octavia’s wrist, effectively stopping her from leaving the apartment. “He… He didn’t exactly want to see me this morning, so I don’t think he’d want talk about me either. “

     Octavia peeled Clarke’s fingers away with surprising gentleness. “Okay, I get it.” She spun on her heel, once again taking in her surroundings. “So… do you have any pop-tarts?”

     A grin spread across Clarke’s face as she reached for the box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday, when I have a moment to breathe, I'll (write) post the next bit. In October, probably.   
> I did just post a little Captain Swan one-shot as well, so if you're a Once upon a Time fan, go ahead and check it out.  
> Thanks, y'all!


	13. Righting Wrongs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy apologizes and Clarke deflects. Your usual rom-com.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, remember last week when I said the next chapter would be up soon? As in, I had the draft saved and ready to go? Me too. Whoopsie. Anyway, please enjoy your bi-weekly dose of Bellarke

Was that pounding on her door or in her head? Clarke blinked the sleep out of her eyes as she came to, blearily looking at the clock. 9:00 am. On a Saturday. She was going to kill Raven, who, coincidentally, was also the reason for her hangover. That girl could (and did) drink Clarke under the table.

Stumbling, Clarke made her way slowly towards the door, the pounding growing louder with each step. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” She growled, her voice raspy. _Note to self: No more jägermeisters. Ever again._

The knocking ceased as Clarke flung open the door, a snarky retort for Raven already on the tip of her tongue, but it died almost instantly as she found herself staring squarely at someone’s chest. Raising her eyes a few inches, her blue ones met Bellamy’s chocolate brown, and she took a sharp breath. 

Bellamy offered her a shy smile, the one she knew he reserved for moments that called for extreme attention and genuine emotion. One she never expected to be directed at her. “Hey, Clarke.”

“Bellamy.” she replied dumbly, floored. She hadn’t really talked to him all week except in passing, once when she was coming home and he was leaving, and again when she was getting her mail, and he was rooting around in on of the lobby’s armchairs- probably looking for his phone. If you had anything in your pockets when you sat down in it, chances are they’d be long gone by the time you stood up.

“Can we, uh, talk?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck like an embarrassed teenager.

“Talk?” Clarke repeated slowly, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how she should act. Was she angry at him? Did they need to talk? If so, what about? “Come in,” She decided on noncommittal, stepping aside to let him in.

She instantly noticed the similarities between Bellamy and his sister as she watched him survey her living room much in the same way his sister had, painfully aware that this was his first time inside. She closed the door and walked past him into the kitchen, and started a cup of coffee simply to give her hands something to do. Also, there was still a tiny miner in her head, incessantly banging his pick axe against her brain.

“Have you eaten yet?”

His question caught her off-guard, and her hand stilled briefly, her back turned to him. “No,” She finally replied, shutting the lid of the machine and spinning around to face him. “You actually woke me up. Raven and I had a bit of a long night last night.” She gestured towards the wineglasses still sitting at the kitchen island.

Bellamy smiled at her, no longer shy. “I can tell. You’d never have worn my favorite shirt sober, Princess.” He stopped speaking abruptly, face reddening as his brain caught up to his mouth.

Clarke looked down in surprise and laughed, decidedly not reacting to his questionable word choice. She was wearing the Procrastination Princess tank top again. Of course that was what Bellamy would notice.

“I should have burned this when I had the chance,” She shot back, surprised by how easily they fell back into their usual back-and-forth banter. They both grinned at each other for a minute, relishing in the ease and familiarity that came with being in each other’s company.

Clarke broke the gaze first, turning around to grab the coffee mugs, hoping Bellamy couldn’t see the affection she still felt for him, when he had made it perfectly clear las week that he felt nothing for her. Which reminded her…

“What did you want to talk about?” She asked, setting a mug down in front of him. It was his mug, actually, one of those souvenir ones with the Bill of Rights printed on it. He got it from the Smithsonian in D.C. - a trip that he yammered on about proudly for almost an hour when she first asked him about it. She’d smuggled it away after the fact, but she had a feeling Bellamy didn’t mind, judging by the way he smiled at her as she set it down in front of him. “And why didn’t you bring food? It’s Saturday.” She fixed him with her most accusatory look as the coffee machine beeped behind her.

“Right, so, I wanted to talk about last week.” Bellamy began as Clarke turned her back again.

“What about it?” She kept her voice neutral, oblivious, and devoid of emotion. And felt like an ass for doing so. But she also knew they were toeing the line into dangerous territory. 

“I just- I wanted to apologize for last week,” He gave a nervous, breathy laugh as Clarke set the pot down in front of him., listening intently. “I didn’t even know why I felt to bad about it afterwords- Well, not _it_ specifically, but like in the morning when you came by and I was-“

“Shirtless?” Clarke cut in teasingly, sensing his growing distress. She forced a grin and sipped her coffee. “Very shirtless, if I recall.” He cracked a smile at that, which gave Clarke the confidence to continue. “Honestly, Bellamy, you don’t have to apologize. You shouldn’t feel badly for having a life.” The words hurt to say, but Clarke pushed aside her emotions on favor of protecting Bellamy’s. Besides, the words were true. He had no obligation to wait around for her to stop pining (was she pining? She was. Definitely pining), and ask him out. 

Bellamy looked conflicted, like he wanted to argue, but Clarke was done discussing the subject. She scrambled quickly for a new topic, and before she could even filter the words through her brain, she ended up blurting out, “I met your sister last week.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up his forehead faster than rockets. “You what?” To her relief, he didn’t sound angry at this new piece of information. Just surprised. So Clarke told him about how his sister had nearly banged down her door and their subsequent pop-tart breakfast and bonding session that followed, carefully omitting the reason _why_ Octavia had been there in the first place.

“Huh.” Her friend lowered his now-empty mug, spinning it contemplatively. “I just had lunch with O this week. I wonder why she didn’t mention meeting you.”

Clarke knew why. Octavia had texted her before the aforementioned lunch, insisting that Clarke talk to Bellamy to sort out whatever issues still plagued them. Clarke replied with a noncommittal “Maybe”, and spent the rest of the day with her finger hovering over the “Call” button next to Bellamy’s number, marinating in “what-if”’s.

“Maybe she wanted us to work out whatever’s going on between us. Or lack thereof.” Clarke clamped a hand over her moth, face flushing with heat. Bellamy left out a nervous laugh as they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

In an attempt to collect her now-scattered and frantic thoughts, Clarke counted backwards from five in her head and took a deep breath.

“Okay, how about we start today over?” She suggested, meeting Bellamy’s questioning stare. “I’ll start. Hi, Bellamy. What’s for breakfast?”

Bellamy grinned, a look of relief spreading across his face as he responded in kind, “Anything you want, princess. Have you seen this week’s newsletter?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at our little dorks. Up next: More Raven, and (of course) more miscommunication. (coughLexacough what?)


	14. A Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And suddenly a wild author appears! It's been a while, hasn't it? I have no other explanation other than finals. Anyway, let's celebrate the resurrection of the 100 fandom with a new chapter! A chapter I really should have split into two but didn't because reasons! Happy holidays!

 

When Raven picked the lock the next morning, Clarke was already waiting at the island counter, and wordlessly held out a key while sipping her drink.

“Morni- Griffin, what is this?” Raven suspiciously took the key from Clarke’s outstretched fingers. “Are you drinking orange juice? Okay, who are you, and what have you done with my grumpy neighbor?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “It’s a key, dumbass. And I happen to like orange juice.”

Sticking her tongue out like the adult she was, Raven circumvented the tiny kitchen island to get to Clarke’s mostly-empty cupboards and began rummaging around, while talking over her shoulder. “One: I know it’s a key. I'm an engineer, I know shit. But why are you giving it to me?” Raven gave a melodramatic gasp, whirling around. “Is it the key to your heart? I’m touched, Clarke, really.” Another eye roll from the blonde. “And two: I have never seen you drink anything other than coffee before nine am in the past seven months.”

“Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.” Clarke said primly, taking another sip as if to prove her point.

Raven snorted and muttered something that sounded like “New leaf, my ass,” As she pullout a bag of coffee, smiling in satisfaction. “Your weird juice and keys distracted me from the real reason I’m here. You texted me about our lovely little loser across the hall yesterday, andI’ve been _dying_ to know what went down, so come on,” Raven waggled her eyebrows. “Spill.”

So Clarke spilled, filling Raven in as the other girl buzzed around the kitchen, looking far more at home than she should have for someone who broke in on the regular, regardless of whether Clarke was actually home or not. “So, you two are good again, right?” 

Clarke hummed noncommittally. Raven glared at her. “Fine!” She relented. “To be completely honest, I don’t know. He- he tried to apologize but I wouldn’t let him, and we’re good, but I feel like it won’t be the same.”

“Well, _duh_ ,” Raven responded, moving to sit next to Clarke at the counter, wrapping her hands around her steaming mug. “He’s finally realized his feelings for you! The boy’s in _looove_.” She nudged her shoulder against Clarke’s, who bit her lip to hide a smile. 

“Yeah, well there’s something else I didn’t mention. Someone- uh, someone else asked me out, and I might have said yes?”

Raven’s smile dropped. “You did what now? This is going against my entire plan for you two! I thought you were hopelessly in love with the guy.”

“I thought he wasn’t interested, so I decided to live my life. There’s more to this world than obsessing over my unattainable neighbor.”

Raven frowned at her over the coffee. “Is he at least cute?”

“ _She_ is very cute. Hot, even.”

Raven raised her eyebrows, but chose not to comment on the pronoun. “Well, let her know that if she breaks your heart, I break her face. Capische?”

Clarke laughed, hugging her best friend with one arm. “I haven’t even gone on the date yet!”

“I will break anyone’s face that dares mess with my girl.”

“You just love me for coffee.”

“Shut up.”

* * *

 

“Where are you off too, princess?” Clarke turned around to see Bellamy coming up the stairs, mail in hand. She flushed, suddenly feeling warm as his eyes gave her a once-over, taking in the dress, heels, and hair- all at least two times fancier than anything she’d worn in at least a year. 

She turned back to lock her door. “I’m going out.” She said, deigning not to let him, or his totally not heart-melting eyes, get to her.

A plan which spectacularly failed, as she turned to find him right next to her, dangerously close to violating her personal-space bubble. “I can see that,” He replied, his voice lower than normal, like he was speaking for only her to hear. “But where to?” He tilted his head and she met his eyes, regretting it the instant they did. Warm, brown, eyes she knew, looking down at her with curiosity, and something else. Something she couldn’t let herself think about. Not tonight. Regaining her composure, she shoved her key in her clutch and ducked past him, making her way towards the stairs.

“I’m going on a date.” She refused to turn around to see his reaction. Tonight was about her. Not him.

 

* * *

 

Lexa was funny, and very kind. Case in point- she made Clarke laugh so hard water came up her nose, and was now gently patting her back as Clarke tried to regain the ability to breathe. “Don’t look now,” Lexa whispered in her ear, her warm breath tickling Clarke’s neck, “But the snobby old couple is glaring at us like we just committed some act of indecency. I think they know I forgot my chastity belt at home.” Which just made Clarke laugh harder.

Once Clarke finally caught her breath and sat up, Lexa leaned back in her own seat, still grinning. “What?” Clarke asked, her face flushing, feeling very aware of Lexa’s eyes on her. It wasn’t a bad feeling.

“Nothing, I just…” Lexa paused, clearly looking for the right words. “I’m so happy that you agreed to go out with me. Honestly, I thought you were going to say no.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “Did you think I was straight?”

“No- well, there’s always the inherent assumption, I guess, but that wasn’t it- I just thought you were out of my league.”

Clarke narrowly avoided choking on her drink again. “Wait, what?”

Lexa laughed again, a self-deprecating smile appearing on her face. “Yeah, pretty high school of me, huh?”

Shaking her head, Clarke laughed along with her. “If anything, _you’re_ out of _my_ league. I’m a painter who leaves her apartment maybe three times a week. You’re a badass detective who could probably flip me right here, right now.”

“Maybe I still will.” Lexa responded coyly, and this time Clarke could feel herself blush all the way down to her toes. 

(She did indeed flip Clarke later that night, and Clarke had no complaints)

The next morning, Clarke offered Lexa breakfast, showing her a vast array of toaster pastries and, a new addition to her pantry, bread and jam (bought at Bellamy’s insistence.) The other girl laughed as she pulled on her boots, explaining she had an early day. Clarke hardly had a moment to feel disappointed, though, because Lexa quickly pulled Clarke in for a long, searing kiss, that somehow was sexy despite their mutual morning breath. Clarke was almost dizzy when the brunette pulled away, promising she’d call soon. Clarke stammered out something that sounded like “Uh huh, yeah please.” And opened the door for Lexa.

And felt a strong sense of deja vu when she found Bellamy standing in front of the door, hand still raised, clearly about to knock.

“Bellamy?” Clarke instinctively turned to look at Lexa, who was still putting on her jacket. “It’s not Saturday, is it?” She may have just been on one of the best dates of her life, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t paying attention to the cat calendar on her wall.

Bellamy wasn’t looking at her- he was staring over her shoulder at Lexa, who was now gathering her bag and looking unperturbed. Because why should she? Bellamy was just Clarke’s neighbor. Her friend. “No, I was, uh, wondering if you wanted to get breakfast, I don’t have work today. But you’re busy, I’ll just-“

He was already backing away when Lexa came to the door, smiling at Bellamy. “Look, you found a breakfast buddy after all, Clarke,” She teased the girl, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll see you later. Have a good day.” She waved at Clarke and Bellamy before making her way down the stairs, clearly unaware of the situation left in her wake.

“So, that’s your, uh… From last night?” Bellamy waved after Lexa, confusion clear on his face. “I didn’t know you were gay.” When Clarke raised her eyebrows, opening her mouth to respond, he hurried to add, “Wait, that came out wrong. I just meant, I feel badly for assuming- she sounded like a really nice person. Is she a cop? I saw a badge. That’s badass.”

Clarke felt a wave of… something wash over her, a mix of pity and affection for him, her friend who she’d blown off the night before without much more of an explanation than that she was going on a date. “I’m not gay, I’m bi,” She explained, opening the door wider, wordlessly inviting him in. He smiled at her, the motion not completely reaching his undeniably sad eyes, and she felt guilty. And then angry at him for making her feel guilty. He did the same thing to her less than a month before. She was justified in going out on a date. “And you don’t need to feel guilty- hell, _I_ thought I was straight until high school. And then I thought “I can’t be gay if I’m still attracted to guys”. It was just a long weird process before I finally came to terms with who I was. My dad was super supportive. And my mom was… “ Clarke paused, remembering Abby’s lukewarm response. “She came around to it eventually.” She set about to making coffee because she didn’t know what else to to do with Bellamy giving her forlorn puppy eyes. “Point is, yes, that was my date. Her name’s Lexa, and she’s really cool. She’s a detective. It was just one date, but…” Clarke shrugged, turning back to face Bellamy, leaning back on her elbows.

“Buuuut she spent the night.” He teased, waggling his eyebrows at her. There was still some lingering sadness in his eyes, but she could tell he was forcing himself to set his feelings aside for her, and it just about broke her heart. If he was feeling how she thought he was, why hadn’t he said anything? Why all the misdirection and lack of communication, if he liked her?

“She did indeed.” Clarke agreed, biting her lip to repress a smile, remembering the feel of Lexa’s lips tracing across her skin, leaving a trail of fire behind her. Hands running through hair, words whispered soft and slow… Clarke forced herself to focus on the present, the coffee, the Bellamy. _There’s a time and a place_ , she reminded herself.

“So, are you gonna ask her out again?” Bellamy asked, and this time his vulnerability was clear in his voice. 

“Yeah.” And damn it, why did she feel so damn guilty about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	15. That Warhol Guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyy it didn't take me a month to update. I'm even ahead of myself. I have chapters prepared in advance! It's amazing! I think I can even see the light of this ridiculously long Bellarke tunnel.   
> Because I, too, want them to be together.

 

“What would you like me to paint?”

“Oh, anything you like. Just make sure it has lots and lots of color. My daughter loves green and pink.”

“Of course. Something abstract?”

“Like that Warhol guy?”

Clarke winced. She wasn't a snob by any means, but seriously. That Warhol guy? “Sure, something like that.” 

The next few weeks passed by for Clarke in a blur. After selling her "Not-Warhol" piece to Mr. Kane, a somewhat notable figure in the media, she suddenly found herself drowning in commission requests. She was in a painting frenzy, blowing through canvasses and tubes of paint faster than she could replicate them, but it didn't matter because the pay was good, and her work was even better. She felt inspired, empowered. She didn't see anything but herself and the story she was telling.

That’s how Bellamy came in on one Saturday to find her sitting on the floor, covered in paint, surrounded by four half-completed canvases, staring into space.

“Clarke?” Bellamy asked hesitantly, moving towards her slowly, as though she’d spook if he moved at even a remotely normal speed.

She turned to him, her eyes bleary and confused. “Bellamy?” She asked, confusion etched in her brow. “What… Is it Saturday already?” She shifted a little, paintbrushes rolling off her lap and onto the floor. Her overalls and t-shirt looked like a toddler’s art piece, and there were dried streaks of purple paint in her hair.

Bellamy kneeled next to her, careful to avoid splotches of paint on the newspapers she’d spread out on the floor. “What on earth is going on?”

As Clarke dazedly explained the commission story, Bellamy helped her up, guiding her through her bedroom to the bathroom. “Take a shower. Then come over, and I’m feeding you something. Real food.”

“I have protein bars, now.” She protested weakly as Bellamy walked out. He snorted derisively before closing the door behind him.

The shower turned out to be the blissful reprise she’d needed, the past few days both literally and figuratively melting off of her, and by the time she got out, she felt about a million times better.

Dressed in fresh clothes, her skin feeling clean for the first time in days, Clarke felt like a new person as she knocked on Bellamy’s door, mugs in hand. He opened the door, his teasing smile vanishing as he took in Clarke’s appearence.

“Clarke! Wow, you look…”

“Not like a zombie?” She supplied helpfully, ducking around his arm and into the apartment. Immediately, she was drawn to the kitchen, following the smell of sausage, eggs, and vegetables. “Jesus, Bellamy, how many people are you feeding?” Clarke set the mugs down on the counter and fixed him with her most stern gaze. “I hope you didn’t empty out your fridge on my account.”

Bellamy's smirk slid smoothly back into place, and he closed the door, slipping past her to the stove, turning the sausages over before rolling them one by one onto a plate. “Princess, I’d empty out an entire grocery store if you asked me to.” An awkward pause. Bellamy coughed and continued, “Not that you would. Anyway, the point is, you need to eat. Real food. Protein bars do not count.”

Clarke hopped up onto the stool by the island, resting her elbows on the cool granite countertop. “I have Blueberry Bliss! There are blueberries in there… somewhere.”

A plate appeared in front of her, heavily laden with scrambled eggs, sausage, and asparagus. “This is what real food looks like, Ms. Griffin.” Bellamy informed her, using what she'd deemed his most obnoxious Teacher Voice as he slid onto the stool next to her with his own plate and a bowl of strawberries. Clarke rolled her eyes and dug into the (admittedly delicious) meal.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Bellamy exclaimed, nearly scaring Clarke half to death, and she coughed, trying to remember how to breathe around a mouthful of food. He ran over to the refrigerator and grabbed the newsletter taped there, something Clarke hadn’t even looked at in a month. “They got to her. I’m so sorry.” He handed the sheet to her with false gravity in his voice, pointing to an article halfway down the page. Confused, Clarke began to read.

**Super-Spy, or Girlfriend? The newest on our frequent flyer, Lexa.**

“Oh sweet Jesus.” Clarke murmured. She kept reading.

**Lexa, the supposed name of the apparent girlfriend of Clarke, resident of the apartment 3B, has been a very frequent visitor over the past month. Word around the mailroom says she’s a detective, but her brisk walk and refusal to talk to Monty Green and Jasper Jordan (your loving authors) has us concerned; does she have something to hide? A double life, perhaps? A loaded gun? Stay tuned for the new installment next week, where we interrogate Clarke herself.**

“For God’s sake.” Clarke sighed, pushing the paper back to Bellamy, who was doubled over in silent laughter. “Those two shouldn’t even be allowed to own computers, much less type up and print these stupid things.”

“It’s… So… Priceless.” Bellamy managed, reading the section again. “Also,” he added, forcing himself to regain his composure. “Apparently Raven’s either conspiring to kill Wick or ask him out… Murphy overheard her muttering about explosions and roses the other day. Huh.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “At this point, it’s anyone’s guess. She might end up doing both.”

“Well, Zoe’s moving out this month.” Zoe was the 4th tenant of the third floor- rarely around due to the fact that she spent all of her time either partying upstairs with Maya or at her girlfriend’s apartment a few blocks over. “Maybe Kyle could move in, and we’ll see if Raven blows up his door or blows his-“

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.” Clarke warned, quickly slapping a hand over Bellamy’s mouth. He licked her palm in retaliation. “Ew, Bell! Are you five?” Clarke dried her hand on his shirtsleeve while Bellamy laughed once more, twisting his body so her fingers were just barely brushing his cheek instead of his shoulder.

“Your hand tastes salty.” He commented, smilingly. His eyes challenged her to do it again.

“Like my soul.” Clarke fired back, and they paused for a moment, still smiling at each other, Clarke's fingertips like the barest whisper of a touch, brushing across his cheek. It felt good, right, to be there together, laughing about a dumb joke while still being completely captivated by one another. The moment stretched into two, then three, until Clarke finally forced herself to drop her hand, ripping her eyes from Bellamy’s. She was afraid if she didn’t, she’d drown in them, losing her mind trying to find where she fit into them. Who she was to him. And why it mattered so damn much. The moment was over.

He caught her wrist before it fell away completely. She sucked in a breath of surprise at the contact, first staring at his fingers, long and tan, encircling her pale arm, then followed the line of his arm, where it melted smoothly into his shoulder, up the freckly slope of his neck, to his tight jaw, and finally back to where she began. His eyes, more expressive than any she’d seen before. More than they had the right to be.

“Clarke,” He whispered, despite being the only other person in the room. “Please.” And then she knew. That one word was everything.

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking in the heat of his palm, relishing in the contact for one brief moment, before looking at him, and doing what she knew she had to do. “I can’t.” And then she left, the newsletter fluttering to the floor as she walked out. He didn’t follow her, didn’t call out her name as she let the door close. There was only silence.

* * *

 

“Wait, I thought we liked Lexa.” Wells shook his head in confusion, taking another sip of his beer. Raven shrugged, coming to sit down on the other side of the couch, a large bowl of popcorn in hand.

“We do.”

“But we also like Bellamy?”

Raven groaned, tilting her head back in frustration. “Ugh, can we _not_ entangle ourselves with Clarke’s love life by using the collective term “we”? I've got enough going on with-” She caught herself, before switching tracks. "We- that is, you and I- need to make sure Clarke doesn't screw up two perfectly good relationships because she doesn't know who she loves best. Or more. That does not mean we want or need all the gritty details."

Wells raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, handing Raven the bottle, which she took gratefully. “You’re the one who invited me over to figure out how to fix this, oh, how did you put it? ‘Absolute fucking soap opera’.”

He leaned back against the cushions as Raven chucked a piece of popcorn at him. “For your information, I used the word telenovela. Very different. And besides,” she handed back the bottle. “I have a feeling Clarke likes Bellamy in a very different way than she likes Lexa. So,” She tucked her feet underneath herself and whipped out her phone, pulling up a very complicated looking spreadsheet. “How do we fix this?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An insight into my mind right now: Shit how do I fix this?
> 
> Answer: Cover blown O.O


	16. Letting Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. This one was a doozy to write. Like, a multi-day, I-keep-trying-to-make-this-make-sense, lots-of-emotions chapter. And [SPOILER] this one doesn't even have Bellamy in it! But it's still important. Oh, and it's also over 2,300 words long. Enjoy!

“Clarke, are you alive?”

*

“Did I do something wrong? I thought you liked the story of the knitting robbery.”

*

“I’m a detective, so I know you haven’t been reported dead of missing. Pick up your damn phone.”

*

Clarke listened to each voicemail, wincing harder at every time Lexa’s voice turned from angry to sad and back again. After listening to the fifth message, she finally called.

Lexa picked up on the second ring. “Clarke, what the damn hell? I’ve been calling you like some whacked-out stalker. And I know stalkers, so I’m not lying.”

Clarke sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she walked back over to her easels. “I know, I’m sorry. You know how I was commissioned to do all of those paintings?”

“Yeah?”

The easels faced her down, the once promising face of a canvas now challenging her to come near, to pick up where she left off. To conquer. “I kind of got into this… zone. I don’t know how to describe it, but suddenly three days had passed and I was sitting on the floor and I hadn’t eaten anything but protein bars and I think I was drinking my paint water at one point?” Clarke eyed the murky cup suspiciously. “The point is, I’m really sorry I didn’t call you back, I just kind of fell out of touch with reality for a minute. But hey, it’s only been a few days. Are we still on for tonight?”

Static crackled on the line while she waited for Lexa to respond. Eventually, the other girl sighed and said, “Yeah we are. I just wish you’d let me know when you’re about to go AWOL. I was kind of worried. I wanted to ask you about something.”

Clarke smiled ruefully. “I know, I really am sorry.” She paused. "Wait, what did you want to ask me?"

She could hear the smile in Lexa’s voice when she responded quietly, her voice positively sultry, “It can wait. Besides, I want to know how you can make it up to me.” Despite herself, Clarke giggled, and Lexa continued on, “First though, I’m going to make you my famous ginger-glazed salmon. Get some real food in you.”

At the sound of “real food”, Bellamy’s favorite term to tease her with, Clarke’s smile dropped. “I can’t wait.” She forced out, trying to sound upbeat, and like a totally chill girlfriend who was not in love with the dude across the hall.

“Me neither. See you tonight.”

Before she’d even pulled the phone away, there was an urgent-sounding knock at her door.

“Raven? Wells?” She found herself face-to-face with her two best friends, who were wearing their best we’re-serious-faces, which would have been funny under most circumstances, but she had a feeling she knew exactly what they were here to discuss, and she was really not in the mood. “You guys here to battle for my hand in best friendship? Because you know Murphy significantly outranks both of you.” 

She knew she was in trouble when even Raven didn’t crack a smile. “Clarke, sweetie. We gotta talk.”

Clarke knew it was fruitless to argue, instead, simply sighing and stepping aside to let her friends in. Wells squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, but Clarke still felt apprehensive when she sat down across from Raven, who was perched on The Damned Couch, pressing her fingers together one-by-one to form a steeple. Wells sat next to her. “My dear Griffin, you may be wondering why I’ve gathered you here tonight-“ 

“This is my apartment-“

“And you would be right to do so. Well, let me tell you. You have a problem. Specifically, a people problem. More specifically, a hot people problem.”

“You think Lexa is hot?”

Wells snickered. Raven shot him a look. “That is neither here nor there. The point is, you’re in a relationship with a very hot girl, all the while 100% aware that your equally hot and kind neighbor is hopelessly lusting after you. Now, normally I would stay out of such matters-“

“In what universe?

“Except the sexual tension is clogging up the air in this floor. Every breath is just ‘bellamyandclarke, bellamyandclarke.’ It’s amazing I haven’t died from oxygen deprivation.”

Clarke closed her eyes, praying to whatever god was listening for patience to deal with her ridiculous friend. “And what do you suggest I do, Raven? Should I break up with my _perfectly nice_ girlfriend, just to turn around and throw myself at Bellamy so we can, what, stop clogging the _air_ for you?” 

It came out angrier than intended, and the room fell into a stunned silence. Raven was eyeing Clarke suspiciously, while Wells watched, wide-eyed. Clarke had never lost her temper before, never like that at least. Clarke watched as he eyed the door, probably wondering how far he could get before she Raven dragged him back in.

Finally, Raven spoke, her voice calm. “I’m saying you need to put Bellamy out of his misery. Either make it completely clear that he has zero chance with you, or completely clear that you’re into him. Don’t string him along, just be transparent about what you want, and your boundaries.”

Clarke let the words hit her, sink in. She nodded, any of the anger she’d been feeling quickly draining, being replaced with exhaustion. And acceptance. “You’re right.” and then, “Sorry I yelled at you.”

A soft smile broke across Raven’s face, and she reached over to squeeze Clarke’s hand. “Please, I deserved it. I kind of came at you out of the blue.”

Wells let out a sigh of relief as the tension in the room evaporated. “Thank god. Okay, can we please have some beer? I need a drink.”

Clarke laughed, and vaulted out of her chair to grab the drinks. She dropped onto The Damned Couch, nestling comfortably between the two of them. “So Raven,” She began, twisting to face her neighbor. “How’s Wick?

Just like that, the smile vanished, and a faint flush tinged Raven’s cheeks. “He’s as annoying as ever.”

Wells tipped his head at Clarke, questioning. “They’re one argument away from tearing each others’ clothes off.”

“Ah.” He nodded in understanding as Raven spluttered indignantly.

“Bellamy mentioned Zoe’s moving out in a few weeks. Maybe if Wick’s looking for a place to live…” Clarke raised her eyebrows teasingly at her friend.

Raven’s eyes went wide. “No. No. No way in hell. If Wick moves here, I will leave. Or murder one of you. Probably him. But you’ll have a target on your back, Griffin. Wells, help me.”

Wells grinned. “Sorry, Reyes. My lease isn’t up for another six months. But have fun with your new neighbor.”

Raven sunk down against the couch cushions, muttering angrily under her breath.

Clarke leaned her head closer. “What was that? I think you liiiiiike him.” She teased, bumping Raven’s shoulder. “He’s just pulling your pigtails.”

Raven pulled Clarke’s hair in retaliation. “Ow.”

 

Eventually, Clarke managed to kick Raven and Wells out of her apartment so she could get ready for dinner with Lexa, promising to make up her mind before the end of the night. Raven scoffed, calling her on her bullshit, but Clarke just smiled and closed the door in Raven’s face.

Two hours later found Clarke standing in front of Lexa’s apartment door, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, trying to tell her brain to slow the hell down. Her brain didn’t listen. She knocked.

Almost instantly, Lexa swung the door open, smiling broadly at Clarke. She looked amazing, her hair tumbling loose around her shoulders. She was wearing a loose, dark blue blouse, and dark jeans, and Clarke thought she’d never looked prettier. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Clarke greeted her, pressing a kiss to Lexa’s cheek. “You look gorgeous.”

Lexa rolled her eyes in protest, but her lips quirked upward. “Speak for yourself.”

“What, this old thing?” She twirled, letting the dress fan out around her legs. “I totally didn’t spend 20 minutes picking it out.”

Laughing, Lexa stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Clarke’s waist, pulling her in for a proper kiss. “I missed you,” She murmured against her lips, eyes still closed.

Clarke’s heart twisted painfully in her chest. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Lexa shook her head, so slightly only someone who was nose-to-nose with her could tell. “You’re here now.”

Clarke smiled. Relaxed in Lexa’s arms. Let her enjoy the feeling of being held, wanted, with no guilt. No confusion. She pressed another kiss to her girlfriend’s lips before twisting around, pressing her back against Lexa to observe the table, impressed. There were candles, plates, and what looked like actual silverware. Oh, and food. “What did you make? It smells amazing.”

Lexa laughed, resting her chin on Clarke’s shoulder. “The only thing I know how to make. Honey ginger glazed salmon with roast vegetables. Oh, and lava cake.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

“Come on,” Lexa unwrapped her arms from Clarke, gesturing towards the table.

“So,” Clarke started, settling into her seat. “Is there any occasion for this extravagant meal? Other than my coming out of zombie mode, that is.”

“First of all, it’s just salmon.” Lexa began, cutting into her asparagus. “And secondly, you coming out of zombie mode is reason enough.” She paused, contemplating her plate before looking up at Clarke. “But yes, there is something else.”

“Oh my gosh, don’t tell me,” Clarke set down her fork, leaning forward excitedly. “You got that promotion!”

Lexa shifted uncomfortably. “I got a case that will _get_ me a promotion. but-“

“I knew it!” Squealed Clarke, reaching across to squeeze Lexa’s hand, which was limp on the table. “I’d vault across the table right here, right now, but there’s a candle and-“ 

“ _Clarke_ ,” Lexa interrupted, a serious look in her eyes. Clarke blinked, sitting back in her seat. “This case, it isn’t…” She paused, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s not a normal case, because, well, it’s going to be a career-maker. My career maker.”

“Lexa, what are you getting at?”

A sad smile crossed the detective’s face. “It’s undercover. Deep cover. Six months, minimum. Probably more. I can’t tell you a lot- I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this, but-“

“But you’re leaving.” Clarke finished for her, not bothering to hide the disappointment in her voice. “For a long time.”

Lexa nodded. “Clarke, I know this isn’t ideal- I mean, we just started dating, but this is my career. Its practically impossible for women to advance in this area, and the fact that I’ve earned this opportunity is really amazing. And really dangerous.” She paused, looking imploringly at Clarke. “But I really like you Clarke.”

“I like you too.” Whispered Clarke. She was feeling small, so incredibly small. She felt like curling into a ball, right then and there, but Lexa probably wouldn’t appreciate having to deal with a small blonde curled up in the fetal position on her floor, so Clarke steeled her emotions and decided that, just this once, she’d act like a real adult. “I understand.”

A heavy silence settled over the two, uncomfortable and thick. 

Finally, Lexa laughed nervously. “God, I was hoping we wouldn’t have to get into that until dessert. The lava cake probably would have softened the blow.”

Clarke smiled faintly. Lexa looked sympathetic. “I’m not going to ask you to wait for me.” Lexa says, startling her. “I mean, I’m really into you, don’t get me wrong. But we’ve been going out for less than two months. I don’t want you to feel trapped-“

“I wouldn’t-“

“You’re a good person, Clarke. A really good person. And if all goes well with the case, and I come back and you’re still free, then I want to give us a real shot. But I might not come back. That’s a possibility and we have to acknowledge that.” Lexa sounded so calm, so reasonable. Like this wasn’t her _life_ she was risking.

Clarke swallowed the rising lump in her throat. She was _not_ going to cry like a damsel in distress, like a teenager going through her first heartbreak. “So you’re breaking up with me as if that will make the possibility of losing you less painful? Are you insane?”

“I’m letting you go, Clarke. Don’t you see that?”

Clarke stood up, angry tears threatening to spill down her face. “Letting- letting me go?” She scoffed in indignation. “Don’t you think I should decide that?”

“Not when I might not come back!” Lexa retorted, standing as well. 

Clarke shook her head. “Fine.” She turned and stalked towards the door, snatching her purse off the island counter. “I’m tired, Lexa. I’m just so tired.” She turned around to face her girlfriend, halfway out the door. “I would have chosen you, you know.” 

“Clarke-“ Lexa’s voice broke. Clarke shut the door, shielding herself from Lexa’s pained face, hand still outstretched. She closed the door and ran down the stairs, the world blurring as her tears fell. She cried through the cab ride, through the lobby, and all the way up to her apartment and the comforting embrace of The Damned Couch. She cried through the knocking on her door, through the loud jiggling of her doorknob, and finally, into Raven’s arms.

\- 

She cried right up until the point where she heard an unfamiliar voice call “Raven?”. She looked up through glassy, puffy eyes to find a shirtless guy in her hallway- though this set of abs was completely unfamiliar.

Raven swore under her breath. “Wick- just- Give me a minute.”

He looked over the two, nodding in apparent understanding. “No problem.” He vanished from the hallway, heading back in the direction of Raven’s apartment.

Clarke sniffled and leaned back to look at her best friend. And then broke down again. Raven didn’t ask any questions, nor offer any explanations. She simply held Clarke until she finally cried herself out, instantly proving herself to be the best friend ever without saying a word.


	17. Returns and Bets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, has it seriously been over a month since I updated? In my defense, I've had an onslaught of exams and essays to juggle, not to mention that I deleted this chapter and started it over more times than I care to admit. (I'm going against every rule in the book telling you: I'm still not completely satisfied, but this has the best progression). Hopefully I'll be able to crank out more chapters sooner rather than later! I see the light at the end of the tunnel aka my outline! Enjoy!

“You know you love me.”

“I would sell you to Satan for one corn chip.”

“C’mon Raven, I think you and I both know I’m worth at least three chips.”

Clarke groaned and rolled over on her stomach, banging her fist against the wall. While she’d initially been thrilled that Raven and Wick had finally stopped dancing around each other and throwing (potentially dangerous) pieces of machinery at each other, there was a downside to sharing a bedroom wall with the couple. 

“Sorry, Clarke!” Raven yelled, and their voices grew muffled as the pair presumably moved into the living room. Clarke rolled over on her back, staring at the ceiling. It was past nine in the morning, way too late for her to be moping around in bed, feeling sorry for herself. What would Monty and Jasper say if they knew?

Clarke shot up, panic suddenly flooding through her, waking her wide up. Monty. Jasper.  _The newsletter_.

* * *

 

One hour later, Clarke closed the door to Monty and Jasper’s apartment, sighing in relief. She’d had to literally throw Jasper against a wall and twist his arm to keep him from mentioning Lexa- or Clarke’s now non-existent relationship- in his stupid newsletter. Monty had started snickering, but turned tail and ran when Clarke turned her death glare on him.

She climbed up the stairs, exhaustion hitting her suddenly and with shocking force, fully intending to crawl back under her mountain of blankets in order to properly resume her well-deserved wallowing-in-self-pity session, but froze when she saw Bellamy standing in front of her door, an indecisive look on his face.

“Bellamy?” Clarke called out, before she could stop herself.

He jumped, and turned to face Clarke. Surprise crossed his features as she walked up to him, and she realized how long it had been since she’d seen him. Remembering what had happened the last time she’d seen him. Strangely enough, Clarke didn’t experience that sweeping wave of guilt she usually felt when she thought of their shared moment in his apartment. Only sadness.

But seeing him standing there in front of her, at her apartment, bathed in weak afternoon light made those feelings dissipate. Despite everything that had happened, the corners of her lips tugged upwards. Not a full smile, not even a smirk. Just a small flicker of happiness.

“Hey, Bell.” After a pause, Clarke jerked her head towards her door. “Want to come in?”

His eyebrows pulled together in confusion, wrinkling his freckled forehead. God, she’d missed his expressions. “Are you sure?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m sure. It may not be Saturday, but I feel like seeing a friend is an any-day-of-the-week kind of event.” She slipped past him, opening the door, which she’d left unlocked. “I’ll even make you food.” She called as she walked into the kitchen. 

The door closed and she bit back a smile as she heard Bellamy follow her. She busied herself in pulling out the toaster as he took a seat at the counter, unsure of how to break the ice now that he was in her kitchen.

“I broke up with Lexa.” She blurted without thinking. She didn't turn, didn't want to see how he reacted to a verbal bomb such as that.

Bellamy sucked in a surprised breath. After a beat, he said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Steeling her nerves, Clarke turned around to face him, resting her elbows against the counter behind her. “I’m just sorry that she seemed to come between me and you.” She smiled ruefully, and tried to ignore the feeling of liberation in her stomach when he mirrored her expression.

An appreciative silence followed. Clarke dropped bagel slices in the toaster, and heard Bellamy chuckle slightly. 

“What?” She glanced over her shoulder to find him resting his chin on his hand, smiling at her and looking as content as she’d ever seen him. She felt herself smiling back, even as he answered, “Real food in Clarke Griffin’s apartment. Hell must have frozen over.”

That earned him a real laugh from her, one that melted any remaining tension from the air, and suddenly, it was just as she remembered it; her and Bellamy trading barbs and jokes over breakfast food. Maybe their looks were a little more longing, maybe touches lingered a little longer, but so what? They were friends, they were allowed to stare and touch. Right? 

Clarke was so fucked.

* * *

 

Raven watched intently as Clarke ducked around Bellamy’s arm, and into her apartment. Once Bellamy followed her and closed the door behind him, Raven darted out of her own apartment, with a (fully clothed) Wick in tow. She darted down the stairs and hammered on Monty and Jasper’s door. Jasper swung open the door with the air of someone who’d been disturbed of some of the best sleep of their life. Trivial things such as that had never bothered the young engineer before, and she didn’t let it get to her now, striding past her neighbor to grab a beer. Wick followed awkwardly, shooting an apologetic glance at Jasper. “I win.” She announced, popping the cap off in one swift movement.

Jasper furrowed his brow in question. Raven rolled her eyes, taking a swig, then frowning in disgust. “Your beer sucks. But I’m here about the bet. Clarke just invited Bellamy into her apartment. I said they’d be banging before the summer was over. You had dibs on September. And if I’m correct,” She made a show of checking the calendar on the refrigerator. “Ah, yes, it is indeed mid-August. Pay up. You too, Monty!” She yelled over her shoulder.

Jasper winced at the sudden increase in volume. “Monty’s at Miller’s place, dude. Though if you keep yelling like that, I’m sure the entire building will hear you.”

“You didn’t hear me last night, did you?” Raven smiled smugly at the choked noises from both Jasper and Wick. “Now pay up. I need to buy better beer. For all our sakes.”

Recovering, Jasper shook his head, and leaned back against the door, crossing his arms. “Our bet was based solely on banging. As far as we all know Clarke’s simply feeding Bellamy Pop-Tarts.”  Raven scoffed in indignation.

“She bought bagels this week.” Wick supplied helpfully. Raven shot him a glare.

“So not the point.” The brunette turned her attentions back on her neighbor. “Want to edit our bet, then?”

Jasper quirked an eyebrow, making his features appear even more elvish and mischievous than usual. “I’m listening.”

“Double or nothing, they bang within the next two weeks.”

“Double, you say?”

“You in?” Raven stuck out her hand, face deadpan.

Jasper paused, thinking, then grinned, shaking her hand firmly. “Get ready to witness the most epic cockblocking you’ve ever seen, Reyes.”

“I’ll thwart your every attempt, Jordan. I have backup.” She jerked her thumb at Wick, who was currently scrolling through his twitter feed.

He glanced up, and laughed. “In case you forgot, Raven, we both have jobs. Jobs that we need to go to. Jobs that don’t matter nearly as much as this… silly bet thing.” He waved a hand vaguely at the pair.

Silence abruptly fell as Raven and Jasper gaped at him. Wick blanched slightly. “Ok, what did I do?”

Jasper pressed a hand to his eyes dramatically. “Raven, fix your boyfriend before I have to kick him out of the building.”

Raven patted Wick on the bicep. “Oh, sweetie, there are so many things about this building you don’t understand.” She paused, glancing at Jasper. “Where do I begin?”

He paused. “Probably at the annual Nerf War.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: For years, my cousins, brother and I did indeed have an annual Nerf War, held wherever the adults weren't inclined to yell at us. It was the older two against the younger two. There were no winners, but there were many tears. It was brutal and amazing. Each year our fortresses became more complex and impenetrable.   
> Hopefully, it won't be another month until my next update.  
> Question: Would anyone be interested in one-shots from this universe? For example, a story about the building's Annual Nerf War, the various bets that have been placed over the years, etc? Let me know in the comments!


	18. Happy Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your feedback last chapter! I'm definitely looking forward to writing these one-shots for you guys. As a sort of trial, this chapter is less plot, more of what these one-shots look like. I'll explain more at the end. For now, enjoy!

With the summer drawing to a close, Clarke felt an increasing need to get outside and soak up the last bit of summer air before September swept through, blowing away the heat with one fell swoop. She found herself choosing to walk to her local paint store rather than drive, and found excuses to cut through the small community park on her way back, smiling at the kids paying on the playground, and adults throwing around a frisbee, or small groups of teens listening to music.

On the last day of August, Clarke managed to get all of her neighbors out of the building and to the park- even Murphy only grumbled minimally about being dragged away from COD. Clarke smiled and shook her head, sliding on her sunglasses as the group found a place to settle their blankets in the grass. Clarke produced a picnic basket loaded up with sandwiches- of the peanut butter and jelly variety, of course, along with a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Bellamy, in his typical fashion, countered her sugar-laden offering with a vegetable platter, and Clarke knew he would try to force-feed her at least one baby carrot at some point in the afternoon. Raven provided the soda, Jasper and Monty produced beers from their bag, and even Murphy brought something to the party. It was a half-eaten bag of jerky, but hey, he’d tried.

Miller held up a frisbee. “Who’s game?”

Clarke scrambled up off the ground, eager to play, earning a surprised look from Bellamy. “You play frisbee, Princess?”

Clarke, ever the adult, stuck her tongue out at him. “I most certainly do. In college, I played a ton of frisbee, of the ultimate variety. I may or may not have been MVP one or twice.”

Raven whistled and Bellamy picked himself off the ground, dragging Jasper with him. “Up for some friendly competition, Griffin?”

“Oh, this I _have_ to see,” Raven leaned back on her elbows, a devious grin spreading across her face as she watched her two neighbors prepare to square off against each other. Monty passed around beers and the remaining neighbors watched intently as Miller tossed the frisbee, and the players sprang into action.

The game was intense. Clarke hadn’t been lying- she was _really_ good at Frisbee, but Bellamy kept up with her easily, unafraid of taking risks. Raven yelled in support of Clarke while Monty yelled at Jasper to get off the ground, and Murphy yelled at both of them to stop yelling. About half an hour in, Wick showed up and just yelled insults at all the players, decisively choosing no sides. 

Eventually, after an hour, both sides called a truce, hot, sweaty, and laughing. Clarke high-fived Jasper while Monty rolled his eyes at his friend, making a beeline for Miller, wrinkling his face at his boyfriend’s sweaty state. “You’re gross.”

“You’re gross.” Miller countered, ducking down to steal a kiss from him.

“You’re both gross.” Murphy interjected, rolling his eyes. “Take your PDA away from the rest of us pathetically single people.” He said, earning a laugh from most everyone, even Miller and Monty.

Clarke sat down in the grass, and Bellamy followed suit. “Good game, Princess. You put up quite a fight.”

“I was going easy on you.” She said, even as she wiped some of the sweat off her forehead.

“Mm, I’m sure.” Bellamy agreed. Suddenly, Clarke found herself careening to the side, as Bellamy leaned all of his weight- his gross, sweaty, well toned weight- on top of her.

“Bell!” She squeaked, trying to push him off, but he just went limp.

“You tired me out, Princess. Can’t move. Might stay like this forever.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, trying and failing to suppress a laugh, and hoping her feigned annoyance hit the rapid beating of her heart as she complained. “You’re disgusting and sweaty.”

“What did I just say about PDA?”

In unison, Clarke and Bellamy held up their middle fingers at Murphy, but Bellamy still sat up, providing great relief to Clarke’s lungs. “You’re such a weirdo.” She glared playfully up at him, still trying to tamp down on the fluttering in her chest.

“You know you love me.” Bellamy said affectionately, smiling down at her as he slung a casual arm around her shoulders. Clarke was close enough to count the freckles that were sprinkled across his nose like stars in the sky. To notice he had a tiny scar on his chin she’d never seen before. To kiss him.

Instead, she took them both by surprise by leaning into him and agreeing. “I guess I do.” They sat like that for a few more minutes, until Raven asked Clarke if it was okay to start in on the sandwiches, which led to a feeding frenzy. Shockingly, Bellamy’s vegetable platter was a hit, but Clarke’s cookies were an even bigger hit. 

Wick stared in wide eyed wonder as he watched Bellamy literally chase Clarke around with a small stalk of celery in hand, catching him say something about a liberal coat of ranch dressing, and longevity. “When did they get together?” He asked as he watched Bellamy finally tackle Clarke, the two of them tumbling to the ground, a mess of limbs and laughter.

Raven didn’t even need to look up to know who he was talking about. “A while. They just don’t know it yet.”

“Should we tell them?”

“Nah. Let the crazy kids figure it out themselves.”

A victorious shout came from the left, and Raven looked up to see Clarke driving the celery stalk into the ground like a stake. “Literally, crazy kids.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so as you can see, not a lot happened here, plot-wise. Basically, I realized the residents needed to get out of the building, and spend some actual time interacting- more people live there than just Clarke and Bellamy!  
> Also fun fact: I spent a shocking amount of hours reading Bellarke fics today. So. Many. Fics. So I'm kind of in a Bellarke haze right now, which mean my writer's block is GONE. Expect a new chapter super soon!


	19. Mom-us Interruptus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, two chapters in one week? What is this, heaven? Fun fact: turns out reading a lot of Bellarke fanfic makes it a lot easier to write a lot of Bellarke fanfic. I honestly didn't plan this chapter to go the way it did, but the it honestly just needed to happen.  
> The good (or bad, depending on how you interpret it) news is that we have about two or three chapters left in this little story! It's been such a fun ride, and I want to thank all of you guys for sticking with me through every long update wait and crazy rambling notes. I love you guys!

“Hey, how do I make the topic of Manifest Destiny into an interesting PowerPoint for thirty 16-year-olds?”

It was Sunday night, and Bellamy was sprawled out across The Damned Couch, his lesson plans scattered across Clarke’s coffee table.

Even though he couldn’t see her, Clarke still quirked an eyebrow at the back of his head. “You’re seriously asking me?” She dipped her paintbrush into the blue paint she’d been mixing, beginning to carefully create a sky on her canvas with careful, seasoned strokes.

“You’re like a child yourself, it’s perfect.” 

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

He was silent for a few minutes, tapping away at his keyboard while Clarke’s jazz playlist played softly in the background. The sun had long ago set, but her lamps cast a cozy, warm glow across the living room. It all felt so natural, her and Bellamy quietly working on a Sunday night in her apartment, chatting about nothing, and anything. 

He’d started coming over after school most days, claiming he couldn’t focus on lesson planning , or grading, or test writing in his apartment, and Clarke had welcomed the company. She’d always offer him junk food, he’d always turn her down, then settle in at either her kitchen counter or her couch, and get to work. Clarke liked watching the lines form between his eyebrows as he read over essays, the genuine smile he had when he got to mark A’s on tests. She liked it when he asked her if he should just make all the answers C on this quiz, or if learning about the crap of Columbus even warrants an entire class. She loved him here, with her. She loved him.

This wasn’t new, the loving. She just didn’t know what to do with it yet. When she was with Lexa, things had been weird between them. Actually, ever since she’d seen the girl leaving Bellamy’s apartment, the event that seemed so far away now, things had been weird between them. 

But now, things were good between them. Better than before, even. She had full, unbridled access to him in a way she never had befre, and she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. That pesky love thing could be set aside, if it meant she got to keep him there with her. Got to keep him and his dumb ties, and nerdy mugs and dad jokes. Him and his freckles, and his smile like the sun, and his attempts to make her eat real food, things she pretended to hate but secretly relished in.

Before she could get lost in that train of thought, a knock on her door startled her back into reality. Bellamy tossed Clarke a questioning look. “Are we expecting anyone?” She just stared at him. He stared back, and then realized how his wording had sounded. “Er, are you expecting anyone?”

Clarke shook her head and shrugged. She set aside her paints and went to answer the door, not bothering to look through the peephole, which she would later regard as her fatal mistake.

“Mom?”

Abby Griffin looked the same as she had two years ago, the last time Clarke had seen her. It had been at a disastrous Christmas party that ended in tears and slamming doors, a party that still had Clarke wincing at the memory. Her mother’s light brown hair was twisted into a simple side braid, and her smile seemed forced, weighed down by the heavy stress lines etched into her face, though she seemed relieved to see her daughter. “Clarke. I’m so glad I found you.”

Before Clarke could stop her, her mother surged forward to envelop Clarke tight hug, wrapping her arms around her daughter’s shoulders. Clarke went rigid, tersely waiting for the hug to end. Finally, after a long moment, Abby pulled away, slightly, holding Clarke by her shoulders as she took in Clarke’s face, drinking in her features. “Oh, Clarke, baby, I missed you so much.”

“Mom,” Clarke ground out, stiffly stepping out of her mothers’ grip. “This is Bellamy Blake.” She stepped back and gestured to her couch, where Bellamy was hastily shoving aside a mountain of papers to stand up. “Bellamy, this is my mom, Abby.”

If Abby was fazed that Clarke had someone over, she didn’t show it. In fact, her smile only grew and she held out her hand to Bellamy to shake. “So nice to meet you, Bellamy. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Bellamy smiled as he shook her hand. “Of course not,” He assured her graciously right as Clarke said “You are.”

A decidedly awkward pause fell on the group until Abby broke it, saying diplomatically, “Well, I’m so sorry to intrude, but I was in town, and I just couldn’t wait to see you, Clarke. Wells told me you’d moved, but I had no idea it was to such a nice place.”

She did a slow circle, purposefully taking in the paintings on the walls, the hipster lights strung up around the ceiling, the heavily stocked bookcases, and Bellamy’s mess on The Damned Couch. Her eyes hovered on the stack of papers for a moment before traveling up to Clarke’s army of easels, still set up next to the window, though the only thing seen in the glass was their reflections. 

Clarke muttered something about murdering Wells before plastering a fake smile on her face. “Well, since you’re here, can I get you anything to eat? Drink?” She and Bellamy both knew the offer of food was an empty one, unless Abby Griffin was craving Strawberry Pop-Tarts or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Coffee, if you have any.” Abby requested, and Clarke nodded shortly, slipping into the kitchen to turn on the machine. Under different circumstances, Bellamy would have cracked a joke about the mother and daughter's similar preferences, but the air still felt far too tense for any attempt at levity.

Bellamy, unwilling to be left alone in a staring contest with Clarke’s mother, quickly turned to clear his papers from the couch and coffee table. “Sorry for the mess,” He found him self saying as he scrambled for his accordion file, trying to shove the papers into their rightful place with clumsy fingers. “I’m just in the middle of lesson planning, and it can get a bit… disorganized.” 

“Don’t apologize, I’m the one who dropped in unannounced,” Abby said easily. Bellamy straightened as he finished shoving his things into his messenger bag, and turned to find Abby fixing him with a strange look. He tried not to squirm under her intense gaze, piercing eyes not unlike those Clarke would tend to fix him with. “So, are you Clarke’s roommate, or…?” She let the unspoken insinuation hang in the air.

Bellamy swallowed, looking at Clarke’s back in the kitchen. The blonde was still facing the coffee maker, but her hands had stilled. She was as interested in the answer as her mother. “I’m just her neighbor. I moved in shortly after she did. She provides me with coffee, I provide her with snacks.” Clarke started moving again, and Abby nodded, and Bellamy felt like he had passed a test. “Well, I should give you two time to catch up. I have an early morning tomorrow, anyway. Catch you later, Clarke. It was nice meeting you, Ms. Griffin.” He nodded at Abby, and smiled at Clarke, who had whirled around and was giving him the “Please don’t leave me alone with her” look. Bellamy apologized in his mind, and escaped out the door, blowing out a relieved breath the moment he was out of the scrutinizing gaze of Abby Griffin.

Clarke was so going to kill him.

—

“What a nice friend you have.” Abby commented easily, accepting the steaming cup of coffee Clarke offered to her. 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Mom, I’m not in the mood for putting up with stupid pretenses. What are you really doing here?”

Abby set down the mug, giving Clarke her trademark Serious Look. “I meant it when I said I want to come see you, honey. It’s been far too long. I miss you.”

“Which is why you bothered to call before you arrived, and why you got my address through my best friend instead of directly from me. Why you've checked in on me at all in the past two years.” Clarke forced herself not to cry as she glared at her mother. “Can’t you just leave me alone? Just let me be happy for once?”

“Clarke, you’re being a bit dramatic-“

“You’re the reason he’s dead! That too dramatic for you? Hm?”

And there they were, back on the same subject that had driven them apart two Christmases ago. Abby was visibly trying to control her emotions, while Clarke stared up at the ceiling, blinking back tears as she gripped the island counter for balance. 

“You can’t keep blaming your father’s death on me, Clarke.” Abby finally said in a voice of forced calm. Clarke scoffed.

“You’re the one who refused to get snow tires, but forced him to go out to the store in a _blizzard_ , just because you were mad. You didn’t need any fucking groceries, but instead of talking to him, you sent him to his death.” She really was crying now, in a way she hadn’t in years, heart breaking all over again. Snot began to run down her nose, and she turned quickly, not wanting her mother to watch her in that steely way she always did as Clarke scrambled for anything to use as a tissue. She ended up using a paper towel, ignoring the unpleasant feel of it as it scraped across the sensitive skin of her nose.

Abby waited patiently until Clarke turned back to face her, still red eyed and sniffling. “I regret what I did every day,” She began once she was sure her daughter was listening. Clarke rolled her eyes incredulously, but Abby held up a finger. “I do, Clarke. I loved your father, so much. But we were having problems long before that night. I wanted him to just go for a drive, to cool down, so we could talk things out sensibly. Of course I never would have sent him out if I knew what would happen, but I had no way of knowing. No one did. You lost a father that night, but I lost my husband. My friend. Clarke.” Abby reached out for her daughter’s hands, and this time Clarke didn’t jerk away. “You’re all I have left. _We’re_ all we have left. I _know_ things have been rocky between us, I know. But I hope that we can being repairing that. I miss my daughter. I miss you.”

Clarke looked down at her mom’s hands, long fingers, hands that had saved hundreds of lives. Hands attached to the woman she blamed for her beloved father’s death. They were warm against Clarke’s cold fingers, pressing gently. She thought of the years of hurt and pain between the two of them. The silence, the screaming, and everything in between. She thought of before, when her father had been alive, and her mom made smiley face pancakes, and told Clarke about the artistry of surgery, how she’d exclaimed over 7-year-old Clarke’s painting of a human heart she’d given Abby for mother’s day, or how it stayed framed on the wall ever since. She thought of having her mother back. “Okay.” She whispered hoarsely.

Abby’s eyes widened, as though she wasn’t sure she’d heard her daughter correctly. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Clarke repeated, looking up at her mom. “No more silence. It’s…” She heaved a sigh. “It’s going to take some time, but… we can start talking again. We _should_ start talking again.”

A real smile spread across Abby’s face, the kind Clarke hadn’t seen since her dad had died, and yeah, it would be hard, but she was getting her mom back.

Bellamy was still so dead for ditching her.

— 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a wild Abby appears! A little peek into how this scene happened: Me: "Clarke and Bellamy are too comfortable. Maybe Raven should show up? Have I been putting in too much Raven? Nah. Maybe Wells should come over. *Writes "Mom?"* Or that. That works."  
> Seriously though, I kept meaning to explore the whole Abby thing, I just never got around to it. And now I have! And we got Bellarke! It's just a good day all around for everyone. Hopefully I'll get another chapter up before the end of the week!


	20. Cupcakes, Feelings, and Other Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. It's finished. Last night I finished this last chapter and the epilogue. This has been so much fun to write, and I'm so glad y'all have stuck with me this whole time! Enjoy the penultimate chapter!

Clarke knocked on Raven’s door the next afternoon, pink box in hand. She’d heard Raven get home from work about half an hour ago- without Wick, for once- and had been anxiously waiting for the banging and cursing to cease before heading over to knock on the door.

Raven threw the door open unceremoniously, her eyes just grazing over Clarke’s face before they locked on the pink box. “Is that…”

“Celebration cupcakes!” Clarke confirmed happily, flipping open the lid to show her the colorful frosting.

Raven’s jaw dropped. “Shut. Up. You finally slept with him?” She squealed as she dragged Clarke by the arm inside and shut the door. “Tell me everything, I want details and-“

“Raven, stop,” Clarke was laughing lightly, but her face was beet red. “That is so not what these cupcakes are for.”

“But…” Her friend looked so disappointed that Clarke almost felt inclined to lie and say that’s exactly what the cupcakes were for.

“These are celebration cupcakes for me making up with Ab- my mom last night.”

Raven’s eyes widened. “Wait, you did? What happened?” Clarke had told her about her familial status back in those early days, before Raven had a key, and was still regularly breaking in.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment.” Clarke had groaned one morning, waking up to find the other girl in her room, handing her a steaming mug of coffee.

“Excuse you, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

The joke hit Clarke unpleasantly in the gut, like she’d just been sucker punched. “Ha. No.” 

This led to incessant nagging from Raven and finally the whole ugly truth from Clarke. Later, Raven traded back her story about how the guy she thought she was gonna marry, someone she’d loved before she knew what love meant, had been cheating on her for years. They cried and raged and cried some more, and somewhere along the way became best friends.

So now, she led Clarke to the couch and let her tell the whole story of the night before, nodding and smiling encouragingly around bites of her cupcake.

“I’m so glad for you, Clarke. And proud. That couldn’t have been easy. But I’m so happy.” It wasn’t often that Raven was so serious and genuine, and Clarke appreciated her friend’s gentle approach to the situation.

“I am too. I mean, it’s not going to ever be perfect, or the same, but I’m hoping we can make amends to some extent.”

Raven nodded, then grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye, intentionally changing the mood of the room in a heartbeat. “So, what did she think of Bellamy?”

Clarke rolled her eyes and threw her head against the back of the couch. “Of course you would ask that.”

Raven waited for Clarke’s answer, batting her eyes innocently.

“I guess… She liked him? I mean, she didn’t say anything passive aggressive or downright derisive of him, which is always a good sign.”

A snort from Raven had Clarke raising an eyebrow at her friend. “Um, she’s seen the man. Who would ever be derisive towards that face? Did he make his Lost Puppy face? I’ve seen _Murphy_ go weak at the knees for his Lost Puppy face.”

Clarke laughed, playfully shoving Raven in the shoulder. “Shut up, you weirdo. No, she was perfectly nice to him, but I think she was mostly focused on me last night, so she wasn't really focusing on creating a pro/con list of my neighbor in her head.”

“As your other neighbor, I object. Though there aren’t many cons to me. Or Bellamy. I bet you can’t name three things wrong with him.”

“Easy.” Clarke fired back. “How about the fact that he’s a nerd, he’s obsessed with eating healthy, and… and…” She faltered, suddenly finding herself scrambling for one, if any, flaws in Bellamy’s character. “And he’s too tall!”

Raven burst out laughing. “Really, Clarke? He’s too tall? That’s the worst thing about him?” 

Clarke sniffed primly. “You put me on the spot. No, he’s… He’s not big on sharing personal information on himself, but he loves learning about others. His mother dying so young hurt him more than he would ever say, and he had to learn to hide his pain from his sister. He had to learn how to raise her, and take care of her, but he was hardly an adult himself. He puts so much pressure on himself to be perfect that he’s petrified of anyone seeing his flaws. Maybe he doesn’t know that he doesn’t have to be Superman anymore.” Clarke glanced over to see Raven giving her a strange look. “What?”

“Have you told him that?”

“What?”

“Have you told Bellamy that? Well, that and the fact that you’re in love with him.”

“What? No! I mean, that’s a little heavy considering we’re _just friends_ -“

“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Raven muttered, and dragged Clarke up by the arm- the girl seemed to be discovering an affinity to pulling people places via their limbs- down the hall, and placed her outside of Bellamy’s door, and knocked. 

She firmly held Clarke in place while the blonde tried to twist out of her grip, protesting that he probably wasn’t even home, or he had to grade papers, and really Raven, this is ridiculous, when the door swung open and Bellamy’s face appeared, wearing a pleasant but confused expression. “Um…?”

“You’re in love with Clarke. Clarke’s in love with you. Get together and work it out. Jesus.” And with that, Raven shoved Clarke into Bellamy’s apartment, and wrenched the door shut with a deafening _whap_.

Clarke stood in his entryway dumbly, staring at Bellamy with wide eyes. His expression mirrored hers.

“Raven’s just-“

“I don’t think-“

They both began awkwardly and then stopped. Clarke laughed breathily and shook her head. “You first.”

Bellamy reached up to rub the back of his neck, poorly masking his embarrassment at being shoved into the situation. “Raven clearly has an… interest… in our relationship. Or friendship, or… you know… us.”

Clarke nodded in agreement. “She most certainly does. A couple of months ago she ranted to me that there was a sexual tension between us that was “clogging the air”, I mean,” She tried to laugh, but trailed off lamely when she saw the look Bellamy was giving her. Inquizitive, but also undeniably hopeful.

_Oh, fuck it_. “And the thing is, she was so right. And two seconds ago she was right. I’m totally in love with you, Bellamy Blake.” Clarke felt a knot loosening in her chest, something she didn’t know was even tying her down, and once she let the truth pour out of her, she couldn’t stop. She stared into his incredulous eyes and continued, “I love your stupid ties and your dad jokes and general nerdisms. I love that you take care of your sister, and me, and that you’re so stupidly selfless that you always put others above yourself no matter what. I love your smile and your laugh and your eyes and face in general and- basically, I just love _you_ , Bellamy, and I only regret that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Bellamy was staring at her in a way he never had before, like he was seeing her for the first time. Clarke felt like she was under a microscope- not exactly the way she wanted to feel after a declaration of love- but then Bellamy surged forward and kissed her, cupping her face in his rough hands, stepping them back until her back was pressed against the door. His lips felt like electricity against hers, like fireworks. Clarke leaned into him as far as she could, rising up on her tiptoes, fisting her hands in his shirt, then running them up his shoulders before finally twisting in his hair. It was hot and needy and everything she’d imagined and more. He was perfect. 

Too soon, he pulled back, and rested his forehead against hers (a remarkable feat considering he was a full head taller than her), as her fingers laced around the back of his neck.

“So, I’m going to guess that you like me too?” She barely had to breathe the words for Bellamy to hear them.

She felt his smile more than saw it, but already felt lighter than she had in ages. “Clarke, you know I _love_ you.”

She was about to pull him down for another charged kiss when a pounding on the door startled them both out of their reverie. The pair shared knowing smiles, exasperated, but fond, and Bellamy pulled Clarke against his chest as he opened the door to, once again, find Raven waiting for him, with crossed arms, and Monty, Miller, and Jasper fanned out behind her like the world’s strangest pop band. “Alright, I brought backup to convince you two to- wait.” Raven cut herself off as she took in Clarke, wrapped comfortably in Bellamy’s arms. “Did my first plan actually work? Are you guys actually-“

“Planning the wedding? No, you’ll be invited to that.” Bellamy cut her off dryly, smirking at her, and then looking down at Clarke as she twisted to smile up at him. “But I think we can take it from here.”

For the first time, maybe ever, Raven was struck speechless. Miller grinned and squeezed Raven’s shoulder. “I think that’s our cue to go. Looks like you didn’t need the cavalry after all.” Miller reached past her, grabbed the door handle, and gently closed the door, once again leaving Clarke and Bellamy alone.

“Well,” Clarke exclaimed with false surprise, spinning around in his arms to look up at him. “Whatever shall we do now, without Raven to tell us what to do?” She blinked wide eyes at him, smiling innocently.

Bellamy growled out a laugh, and lifted her off the ground, her legs immediately going to wrap around his hips. “I think we can figure it out together.”

They most certainly did. (Again, and again).

—

“Wait, I’m hungry. Can we go get a Pop-Tart from my place?”

“Go to sleep, Clarke.” 

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehehehehe


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me, hm? As if I'd leave you all without an epilogue! I can't believe the story is finally finished. I hope you enjoy this little chapter as much as I do. Here's to happy endings :)

“Breathe in that air, Wick! What do you smell?”

“I smell your crazy.”

Raven turned to glare at her boyfriend. “That is the smell of liberation, Wick! The air is once again clear, we can breathe again, and rest easy, knowing all is right in the world of romance.”

Wick shook his head at her, taking his keys out of her hands to open up her door. “They’ve been dating for two months, I think the air’s been clear for quite a while. And yet you’re still obsessed with them.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Raven insisted as he backed her into the living room, closing the door behind him. “They’re finally reached the casual argument phase. I think they’ve progressed so quickly because they were basically dating for months before they started dating, but the whole “making them confess their love for each other” thing really helped them along.” She babbled as the backs of her knees hit the couch and she fell back into the cushions, Wick leaning over her.

“Raven,” He murmured, cutting her off. “I love you and your words. But could you, just now, be quiet? Please?”

“Did you just quote The Holida- _mmph_ ” The rest of her sentence was lost to Wick’s kiss.

—

“I’m not accepting your pity groceries, Bell.”

“These are not pity groceries.” He insisted, setting the reusable (of course) bags on the island. “I could take you to Octavia’s, show you the pity groceries Lincoln brings her, and then maybe you would believe me.”

Clarke tried to hand back the groceries, but her arms simply couldn’t lift the bags. “Jesus, Bellamy, what did you put in here, bricks?”

“Actually yes, so you couldn’t give them back.”

Clarke growled at him. “The Octavia thing is a trick question, seeing as Lincoln _lives_ with her. He’s allowed to buy her groceries, since they’re technically his groceries, too.”

Bellamy only smiled that infuriatingly sweet smile, the one that made a fire burn low in her belly. “Are you saying,” He began, stepping into her personal space, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “That I can only buy you groceries is we move in together?”

“Yes,” Clarke responded slowly, unable to help the tiny gasp that escaped her lips as he trailed kissed down her neck.

“Clarke?”

“Hm?”

He pulled away, and she felt cold at the loss of contact. “Would you like to move in together?”

Her eyes snapped up to his at the question, but his face was completely earnest, not a trace of a joke. Still, she found herself asking, “Are you serious?”

“No, I’m saying it for practice. _Yes_ , Clarke I’m serious. I’m in love with you, I’ve been in love with you for a very long time, I think it’s time we move in together.”

Clarke pretended to think for a minute. “Okay. But on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“We move into my apartment.”

Bellamy’s smile could have outshone the sun. “Deal.” He dragged her into a tight hug and she wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing tightly. He was infuriating, he was sweet, and best of all, he was all hers.

“Guess that means we won’t be neighbors anymore, huh?” He quipped. She smacked his arm, though her face was still buried in his shoulder. “That wasn’t very neighborly.”

 

Fin

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist!
> 
> Whew. And with that it’s done! I can not thank you all enough for sticking with me this whole time, through slow updates and quick updates, and all the craziness in between. Thank you for your inspiring comments and unfailing support, and most of all, thank you for reading! Stay tuned for one-shots (and my next Bellarke longfic that I've already started writing)! <3


End file.
